My Guardian Angel
by tiger002
Summary: Today we celebrate Wyntirsno's birthday, and present to her a story of heart stopping suspense, and the unbreakable bond of our favorite twins. Come and enjoy a story of one vacation gone horribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1 by Sol Invictus

**Tiger002:**

Before this story begins, I wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who helped with this story. I have seen some people write one-shots for friends for their birthday, but I wanted to do something a little bit more for Wyntirsno. She's a great person, and when I first started writing for Suite Life she was one of my first reviewers and has read everything I've written for the show, and even more. But I know she's not the only one she has encouraged with her reviews, at one time I think she read every story that was posted. And so I asked a few of those other authors to work with me to give her the best birthday present story to thank her for all of her encouragement.

Beyond just those who were able to write for this, who did a great job, I'd like to thank Elinanna22 and RegalBryantLover for their assistence in betaing this story.

Enjoy! Angie, this one is for you...

**Chapter 1**

**By sol invictus**

"Look at how turquoise the water is," Cody said as he and Zack stood on the _SS Tipton_'s observation deck. "It's almost unreal." They were steaming through the calm waters off Jamaica's west coast on a beautiful Monday morning, and the view was something straight out of a travel brochure. Through his binoculars, Cody could see the palm trees gently swaying in the breeze, the sugar-white sands, and the rustic beach houses that dotted the coast.

"It's awesome," Zack agreed as he took his turn with the binoculars. "I can't wait until we dock. This vacation can't start soon enough."

"We'll be there soon. Another hour or so at the most and we'll be on dry land again."

"Beaches and babes, Cody, that's all I need," Zack told his brother as he handed the binoculars back. "At least until Maya gets here tomorrow evening. I'm going to find a chair with a great view of the surf, spread my towel on it, and watch as the scenery walks by."

Cody shook his head and patted Zack on the shoulder. "If you are anything, Zack, you are easy to please. As long as it doesn't rain you'll have the best vacation ever."

"You got that right." They fell quiet for a few minutes and listened to the other passengers' chatter as they rounded a point. The white central tower of the hotel complex came into view and more than a handful of their fellow observers let out quiet cheers.

"I probably should go pack my bag now."

"Zack? You mean you haven't…no, of course you haven't. Come on, I'll help."

"Actually, I'll do the packing if you do the looking for my passport."

Cody opened his mouth to mention that they could very possibly spend their entire time on the island searching for that little book but didn't bother. They'd find it.

Just over an hour later, they were on a small lighter crossing the two miles of crystal clear water between the large cruise ship and the resort's dock. Spray from the bow misted the twins, but they didn't care. Zack stuck his hand over the railing and let the moisture bead before rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. At the grin growing on his brother's face, Cody let the good mood infect him.

The lighter edged its way to the berth, and a group of resort employees dressed in blindingly white uniforms lashed it to the deck. Cody listened in as they talked and fell instantly in love with the accent. English, but not quite. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag and realized he was just as antsy to get on shore as Zack was.

Zack was...about to jump overboard and swim around the dock to the beach if it would get him off the boat any faster. He fought urge to shove his bag in Cody's hands and push his way through the crowd. He took a deep breath as the first of the passengers started debarking.

"Calm down, Zack, we're almost there," Cody told him as they approached the head of the line.

"I know, I know," Zack replied. He ran a hand through his hair as they walked up the steps and down onto the teak decking.

"Welcome to the Tipton Resort." A tall dreadlocked man, not much older than themselves, greeted them. "If you need anything, anything at all, just say the word." He put an arm around each of their shoulders and led them away from the boat. "We'll get you checked in and on the beach in no time, my friends."

Zack and Cody passed three sparkling pools and dozens of sculpted bushes to the front desk. From there, they could look back and see the waves crashing on the shore and Cody could already feel the sand seeping between his toes. Their guide left them, and the twins found themselves standing before a young lady at the reception desk. She smiled as she took their identification and issued them their room cards and sent them away with another smile, her patois ringing in Zack's ears.

"I'll tell you what, Cody," Zack said as they walked to their room, "we've been here for maybe five minutes and spoken to just two people, but I could get used to hearing them talk. I was going to try to see what it would take to get my own room but every time she said something, my brain emptied out and I forgot."

Cody laughed. "Maybe she's been talking to you for the last eighteen years then."

"Ha ha. But you know what I mean, right?"

"I do. They sound, I don't know, almost melodic. And what do you mean you wanted to see about getting your own room?"

"Cody, we're on vacation. On an island full of hot girls just like those over there." Zack pointed, and the two of them watched as a trio of twenty-somethings wearing next to nothing walked down a nearby path.

"Wow." Cody moved his bag slightly so it hung over the front of his shorts instead of on his hip. Now that he and Bailey had broken up, he was perfectly entitled to look at other girls—to look at them whenever he wanted.

"See what I mean? And, I mean this with no offense, but um, it's hard to tell a girl that you're sharing a room with your brother."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" Cody shook his head as he examined his card.

"Just thinking ahead. You never know what might happen. It's like what happens in Vegas staying in Vegas—but better."

"We'll work something out."

"I know we will. Isn't that our building right there?"

"Yes it is," Cody said as he looked up and saw their room number stenciled on the wall above an arched doorway. They walked through and into a tiled space with four doors. "Here we go," he said as he slid the card into their door's reader and pushed it open.

Two large beds sat against one wall facing two dressers with a flat screen on the wall between them. A table with a crystal vase of fresh flowers sat near the patio door, and a hallway led to a small kitchen and the bathroom. Paintings adorned the walls, and the marble floor had an intricate inlay of mosaic tiles. Cody was sure that this room alone cost as much to furnish as an entire floor of the Tipton Hotel in Boston.

"Wow," was all Zack could say.

"No kidding. Don't break anything, or we'll be washing dishes for the next thirty years."

"If that meant staying here, it might be worth it," Zack said as he headed for a small refrigerator.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the mini-bar, of course." He squatted, opened the door, and let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, if I wanted a soda, I'd be set for the next few days," he said as he stood and pushed the door shut.

"Did you really expect it to be stocked with alcohol, Zack?"

"I thought it might be. I'm pretty sure the drinking age here is eighteen."

"Googled it, huh?" Cody smirked. "It is, but we're also Americans, technically on a school trip, and I'd bet anything that Moseby made sure all of our rooms were emptied of alcohol."

Zack frowned as he leaned against the counter. "It's almost like he doesn't trust us."

When Cody allowed that comment to go by without replying, he added, "That's okay. There are tons of little bars all over this resort. I'll just get my drinks from them."

"Yeah, assuming they don't all have your picture framed on the wall with 'do not serve this boy' written under them."

"Oh, he better not have or I'll—" Zack's plan for possible revenge was interrupted by a knock at their door.

Cody opened it and in walked a steward. He deposited their bags next to the beds and left.

"You were saying?"

"It doesn't matter now. It's time to go to the beach." Zack flung his suitcase on the bed and dug through it until he found his suit. He disappeared into the bathroom and was back out, racing for the patio, before Cody could do more than heave his suitcase onto the bed.

"Come on, already, Cody," Zack said as he leaned against the glass door. "Daylight's wasting." Cody shook his head as he calmly walked to the bathroom to change.

Four hours later, the sun was beginning to set and the twins were sitting in the soft sand outside their patio in their swimming trunks. Zack's nose glowed a brilliant red in the dying light, and he liberally applied aloe to it every few minutes.

"So what do you think about Jamaica so far?" Cody asked as he put his cup of Coke back down in the sand. He wiped the bubbles from the fuzz on his upper lip.

"In one word? Perfect. This place is completely awesome." Zack took a sip from his Coke bottle and dusted the sand from its bottom with his shorts. "Like this bottle. Mom talked about having bottles back when she was a kid, but I'd never seen one. Now I'm drinking from one."

"It's like we went back in time," Cody agreed. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"I figured I'd wake up about noon and come back out to the beach. Maybe take a nap about two or so and then hit the beach again and find one of those jerk chicken stands I smelled earlier. Dinner around six and then more sand. Another nap and then party all night. What about you?"

"There's a tour group going to town in the morning. Do a little sight-seeing and then they're going to the market. From what the brochure said, there's tons of deals there. I talked to one of the people at the front desk and he said there's always tons of tourist girls shopping there," Cody added, knowing that would all but seal the deal with his brother.

"That sounds interesting and hey, what Maya doesn't know won't hurt her. What time?"

"It leaves at ten. I know that's early, but you could always rearrange your nap schedule a little. What do you think?"

"Let me think about it for a little bit. Actually, I think I'll be right back," Zack told Cody, his mind abruptly flickering to the earlier image of Moseby blacklisting him across the entire resort. "I have to find something out."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," Zack repeated. "Just sit here and enjoy your Coke for a minute."

Cody watched as his brother set his bottle in the sand, twisting it a few inches in so it didn't fall over, and got up with purpose. Zack brushed the sand from his shorts and walked a few dozen yards before turning left and disappearing behind a building. Cody shrugged, took a sip from his drink, and relaxed. As he listened to the gentle rolling of the waves, a sense of peace fell over him. "It doesn't get any better than this," he said as he shifted in his chair.

Nearly five minutes passed, and Cody finished his drink. He leaned forward and looked down the beach, wondering where his brother had gone. He was just about to head back to their room when he saw his brother sauntering his way in the last of the light. Zack carried an object in each hand, but Cody couldn't discern what they were.

"Turns out that the bartenders don't know about me." Zack laughed as he shoved a hurricane glass full of multicolored frozen something in his brother's hand.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"How did you pull it off?"

"It was easy, Cody. I just walked up to the bar and saw a girl walking away with one of these and told the bartender I'd take two of them." Zack took another sip from a straw, and Cody noticed that his brother had already put a sizable dent in his drink.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that it looked cool and he poured it from three different blenders. And three blenders means more alcohol than one. Probably, at least."

Cody looked at the glass like it was an alien artifact, tentatively putting the straw between his lips and taking a small taste.

"Well?"

"It's...actually very good." Cody took another sample. "Pineapple, banana, and something else I can't figure out."

"Probably rum."

"Yes, there's that, too." Cody rested the glass on his knee and looked his brother in the eyes. "You're not planning on getting drunk the entire time we're here, are you?" His tone left no mistake that his question was more than just a question.

"Of course not, Cody. It's our first night here and I wanted to celebrate a little. Plus, I won't lie, I wanted to see if I could."

"Now we know. And we'll have to hide the glasses or take them back to the bar in the middle of the night."

"Or, I could just walk to that little gazebo over there," Zack nodded toward a small wooden dome set amongst a variety of native flowers, "and leave them on the table. No harm, no foul."

"I guess. As long as you don't make a habit out of this."

"I'm not, trust me. I don't want to spend my entire vacation passed out or hung over."

"Good." Satisfied, Cody changed the subject. "Did you think about going into town tomorrow?"

"As a matter of fact I did." Zack took a long nip from his drink.

"And?"

"I think I'll go with you," he said with a smile after he'd dragged out the pause to almost ten seconds. "It'll be interesting to see the real Jamaica."

"And the throngs of female shoppers there is just an added bonus, right?"

"Naturally," Zack said with a smirk.

The next morning, Cody snapped awake shortly after the sun began to rise over the mountains behind the resort. He crawled out of bed and stretched, looking at his brother and debating whether or not to wake him for breakfast. No, he decided, Zack would be okay if he missed the meal. They'd gone searching for a snack after hiding their glasses and returned stuffed to the gills from a visit to the late-night burger bar. Although Cody was barely hungry now, he was a creature of habit and breakfast had to be eaten.

He dressed and strolled to one of the large dining areas. It was already slowly filling with fellow early-risers. Delicious smells found their way to his nose, and he felt his stomach rumble. Bacon, sausages, eggs, pancakes, fruit by the ton, and other scents he couldn't immediately name. Cody picked up a plate and helped himself from the many hot plates and bowls.

He sat at an empty table, watched the crowds while he ate. A young couple sat near a window, sipping coffee. A man tried in vain to feed a pancake to his young son who was more interested in the flowers at the center of the table. A few of his shipmates sat at a table near the door.

Cody finished in ten minutes and pushed his plate away. _It might take me until the bus leaves to waddle my fat self back to our room_, he thought as he stood. He waved at the young boy who was now busy trying to shake the life out of a stuffed frog. The boy smiled and shook the frog at him. The room had filled while he ate and as he walked out, Cody heard snippets of languages ranging from the common English and Spanish to Russian, Portuguese, and possibly Dutch.

"Okay, Zack, it's time to get up," he said as he shook his brother's shoulder. He'd returned and hopped in the shower to give Zack every last second of sleep he could. "You've got ten minutes to get ready if you still want to go." He shook a little harder.

"I'm awake already," Zack grumbled. "I heard you when you came in."

"You could have said something. I wouldn't have had to wake you up that way."

"I was hoping you were just the maid." Zack rolled over and sat up against the headboard.

"Sorry. But I have to say that I probably look better than some of the maids I saw this morning," he said with a laugh, and Zack groaned.

"I specifically asked for a hot one," Zack told him as he got up and pulled on some clothes. "I'm kidding by the way," he added when Cody seemed ready to give him hell for it.

"I hoped you were." Cody retrieved two bottles of Coke from the fridge and popped the tops on both. "You about ready?"

"Now that I have some caffeine, yes." Zack quickly drained half the bottle and finished it after he located his sandals. "Let's go see your town."

The twins walked to the main lobby and joined the rest of the small group that was going on the excursion. They traded small talk with the strangers, Zack doing his best to get Cody to tell a girl he thought she was beautiful in Spanish. Cody shook his head and told Zack that he should have paid more attention in class.

The bus arrived and they filed on, Zack naturally choosing a seat across from the Hispanic girl. Cody rolled his eyes as his brother attempted to talk to her in broken, halting Spanish. The girl laughed while Zack looked perplexed.

"I think you should know that you just told her you used to eat ponies and garbage. What were you trying to say?"

"I was trying to tell her that I thought she had a pretty smile."

"Yeah...not even close. " Cody kept his eyes on the window so Zack wouldn't see him laughing. As it turned out, the girl's English was astronomically better than Zack's Spanish, and they chatted while the bus completed its journey.

Zack and Cody looked out the window as the bus pulled into an open area in what had to be the market area of the town. Vendors had set up countless stalls and tables, and dozens of the small shops lining the streets had their doors thrown open. Their bus pulled to the side of the road, and the driver advised the group that he would return at noon and leave at a quarter after before pulling the handle and opening the door.

Cody led the way with Zack close behind. They stepped down and into a sea of people and voices. Almost instantly, calls from all directions assailed them, urging them to come to a particular stall and browse the wares.

"I don't even know where to start," Cody admitted as they took in the scene.

"I don't either. I'd say we should follow that girl but we've already lost her." Zack turned and looked around, giving himself one last chance to find the most beautiful girl he'd laid eyes on so far that morning.

"Left or right then," Cody asked.

"Right," Zack replied and led his brother off in that direction.

Racks of necklaces and bracelets and seemingly millions of t-shirts all vied for their attention. Zack paused to look at one stall, and Cody grinned as the owner pounced on him in a split second, telling him how much of a deal he would cut.

"Wow," Zack said as he finally escaped, "I think these guys could put used car salesmen back home to shame. I'm not sure exactly what it was he wanted me to buy, but it was dirt cheap."

"Get used to that. This is what they do and they're obviously good at it."

They walked a bit further and this time they stepped into what seemed to be an interesting shop. Carved wood and shell decorations lined the walls and shelves. Cody picked up a turtle shaped from some dark wood and turned it over in his hands.

"You going to get that?" Zack asked as he saw Cody reach out to put it back, only to start looking at it again.

"I might. It's nice." He showed it to Zack, who merely nodded. "Think Mom would like it?"

"I'm sure she would. She's said how she's always wanted a driftwood turtle to put on the shelf a hundred times."

"I'll take that as a 'no'then" Cody said as he put it down. "But I'll find her something while we're here."

They left the store and continued their walk. In half an hour, they'd made it nearly five blocks and still had plenty of time to peruse. The crowd had thinned to a third of its earlier size as the shoppers went their different ways and moving around became easier. Zack's nose alerted him to something spicy and delicious cooking nearby, and his stomach reminded him that he'd slept through breakfast. They'd definitely be stopping here on their way back, he told himself as he spied a large grill with chicken roasting on spits. Oh yes.

They walked a bit more, and the brothers agreed they'd go two more blocks and turn around. Zack slowed to allow an elderly woman to pass between the two of them and he saw a girl about his age standing before a display of bracelets and nearly fell over. If the girl he'd talked to on the bus was beautiful, this girl was angelic. Zack called to Cody and pointed before wandering over. The girl smiled at him, and he knew he'd be buying whatever she wanted him to.

Cody saw this and waved his brother off, genuinely surprised it had taken as long as it had for him to be seduced. He kept walking and browsing, quickly passing through one block and coming to the end of the second almost before he realized it. The street had narrowed considerably. He looked up from a shop window to see a small group of men clustered around a van barely ten feet away from him. His feet walked another three steps before his mind screamed out for them to stop.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

He knew this instinctively and it was confirmed when he saw boxes of small white plastic bags inside the van.

The men's attention centered clearly on him as he came to a halt, swallowing hard as he saw what could only be the outline of a gun beneath the t-shirt of one man. Cody turned to run, but the metallic click of a pistol being racked froze him in place.

"That's far enough," one of the voices said to him. "Why don't you turn around, my little friend?"

"He saw everything," another voice said, speaking rapidly. "We need to put him down and get out of here."

"No I didn't," Cody answered, his bladder suddenly heavy. "I didn't see anything."

"Nice try. Now come over here and we'll talk about what you did see," the first man told him as he made a move for the pistol under his shirt.

Cody spun and ran. He made it five feet before he was tackled from behind. The cool metal of a gun barrel pushed against the back of his head. The voices argued.

"Do it. We have to get out of here unless you plan on killing every last person on this street. Shoot him already." All sets of eyes peered up the street, noting the crowd's attention slowly turning their way.

"He's American. We could ransom him like before."

"Too much trouble. Shoot him and be done with it. We have more deliveries to make."

Cody zoned out and the voices ran together as he expected every second to be his last. A decision must have been reached as he was roughly yanked by the hair and the back of his shirt. He screamed as the men muscled him into the back of the van.

"Zack! Zack, help!" he yelled as loudly as he could, struggling against the hands gripping him. Once he was inside that van he would be as good as dead. An elbow caught one of the men squarely in the nose, and seconds later he was clouted on the side of his head. Cody saw stars and his neck flopped, head drooping.

Zack had left the girl and was looking over his five new bracelets as he walked when he heard his brother scream. He looked up and saw some sort of commotion taking place at the end of an alley. He picked up his pace to a trot as he tried to make out what was happening. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end just as he noticed Cody in the middle of the commotion.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Zack bellowed as he saw his brother go limp in one of the men's arms. He broke into a dead run as Cody was dragged toward an idling van. When his brother was tossed unceremoniously into it, he roared with rage.

"Cody! I'm coming, Cody!" Fists balled, he was ready to do whatever he had to do to get his brother free. He was near enough to see the crow's feet around one of the men's eyes as one half of the rear door shut. Zack was a step away from launching himself through the other half of the door when his eyes registered movement from the side.

Time slowed and the fuzzy form condensed into a second man stepping from behind the other door. A slow-motion fist looped from the man's left side, and Zack watched as it flew at him. He ducked his chin just in time to dodge a knock-out blow. The punch caught him on the side of the head.

He had coiled like a spring to jump through the door, and the strike knocked him flat on his belly. His head slammed into the patched concrete and bounced. Zack's vision doubled and trebled before clearing.

Zack let loose another battle roar as he tried to pull himself together. When he raised his head, there was Cody sprawled in a corner of the van, eyes wide and a gun rammed against his temple.

"Let him go!" Zack yelled.

"Zack! Help!" Cody screamed, seeing his brother mere feet away.

"Come on! We got to go," a voice blared from inside the van, and Zack saw the man holding his brother at gunpoint motioning with his free hand. "Get in now or we're leaving you."

Zack had gotten to one knee and had one hand on the door frame when a grimy boot sailed in and struck him just above the temple. He collapsed to the ground a second time and rolled over onto his back.

"You should have just stayed down, pendejo," the man who hit him said as he launched another kick at Zack's head and a third into his ribs. "Been easier on you that way."

Zack groaned and tried to cover up. The driver gunned the engine. The man inside the van gave one last warning, and with that, Zack's attacker turned, forgoing another kick to hop into the van and slam the door.

Zack twisted his head enough to watch the van as it took off, his eyes zeroing in on the back of the vehicle amidst the cloud of oily exhaust. He squinted and focused on the license plate as his vision blurred and finally went dark.


	2. Chapter 2 by WoundedHearts

**Chapter 2**

**By woundedhearts**

Zack tossed and turned, the bed sheets twisting around his legs, constraining him. Deep in the realms of slumber, he replayed the events of the previous day over and over again. His brother was in danger and no matter how hard he tried to maneuver his way through the crowd, he couldn't reach him in time. Cody's call for help, frantic with fear, invaded his thoughts.

"Will he be alright?" asked a male voice.

Zack couldn't make out who was speaking. The voice sounded so far away, as if he were trapped in a tunnel of some sort.

"We have to run a few more tests and wait until he wakes up. If all goes well, then he will be released soon," said another male voice Zack didn't recognize. "I have to go, but the nurses have orders to contact me as soon as there is any change."

"Thank you, Doctor."

As Zack thrashed among his sheets and the doctor left the room, Maya turned to Moseby. "Have you called his parents?"

"I contacted Carey," Moseby said, his usually composed expression showing worry lines across his forehead and around his mouth. "She and Kurt will be here in a few days."

"Mr. Moseby, are you alright?"

"I don't understand this. Why Cody?" Moseby said aloud, to neither Maya nor the unconscious Zack. "He's just a kid. What could they possibly want from him?"

"I don't know."

"Codes…"

"Zack!" Maya leaned over Zack, relieved to see his eyes open. "Mr. Moseby, he's waking up."

"Zack," Moseby echoed before hitting the call button.

Zack's head felt heavy and the pounding worsened when he opened his eyes to a blinding light. Raising a hand to shield his face, he tried to listen to what Moseby and Maya were telling him. But the pounding wouldn't stop, and he covered his ears trying to drown out the noise around him.

"My head," he groaned. His eyes shifted from Maya to Moseby, then back to Maya as his heartbeat revved with panic. "Maya, when did you get here? What time is it? What _day_ is it?"

"It's three o'clock on Tuesday," Maya said, brushing her fingers over his hand. "I took an earlier flight and arrived here around noon. Mr. Moseby was just on his way to the hospital when I got to the resort."

"Do you remember what happened?" Moseby asked him just as the doctor and a nurse hurried into the room.

Immediately they checked his vital signs and finding no cause for alarm, continued their inspection by asking questions.

"How's your head?"

"It feels like someone is drilling a hole in it," Zack answered.

"That would make sense. You took quite a fall."

"I need an aspirin." Zack's eyes had finally adjusted somewhat to the light, but when he tried to sit up a lightheaded swirling sensation forced him to stay still.

"Dizzy?"

"Slightly," he replied, placing his arm across his forehead. "Don't tell me, that's also a side effect of the fall?"

"I'm afraid so. I think we'll let you rest for now."

"I can't sleep anymore," he said, looking around. "I had the strangest dream. Where's Cody?"

"You don't remember?" Maya asked.

"Is he getting me something for this headache?"

"Zack, what was your dream about?" Moseby asked.

"I'm curious to know the answer to that as well." A tall man with a suit walked into the room at tat moment, holding out his badge. "I'm Police Chief Edwin Hawthorn."

Zack looked at the man, then back at Moseby and Maya. Every part of him came alive with a start. The merchants, the crowds, the van, and those men forcing his little brother into it. None of it was a dream. All of it had happened. Instantly his mind raced with details. Starkest of all, he saw Cody, his face contorted with fear as he collapsed onto the floor of in the van seconds before it sped away down the narrow, busy street.

"I need to see Cody."

"Zack, you can't." Moseby placed a comforting hand on Zack's arm and readied himself for an outburst. But Zack stayed still. He seemed to be processing everything that had happened.

"Cody was kidnapped," he added, more as a statement than a question.

"Do you remember what happened?" the police chief asked.

"I don't know. I was too far away. All I remember is hearing is Cody calling my name and begging me for help. I ran, but I couldn't get through the crowds fast enough. Suddenly I saw him, and he was being bullied into a van of some kind. I tried to stop them, but some guy came at me and I couldn't get to him. His face, he was terrified. I couldn't get to him."

Everyone stayed silent for a few minutes, unsure what to say. Each could tell by the expression on Zack's face how guilty he felt for not being able to save his brother.

"Is there anything specific you can remember?" Hawthorn asked. "The color, make and model of the van perhaps? Anything distinguishing about the man who attacked you? Every little bit helps."

"No, I just remember the van and Cody's face."

Hawthorn studied the young man's face. Something nagged at him just below the surface, that much was clear. Had he seen more than he was letting on? Could he identify the men? If that was the case, then Hawthorne needed to make some calls. Now. Still, he hesitated. Maybe he honestly didn't remember.

Years of experience had taught him one thing: don't dirty your hands until you have just cause to. Even the smallest infraction could come back and bite you in the ass. A dead teenager from the mainland would not go unnoticed and with what had happened to that Holloway girl in Aruba, Hawthorn could not afford to take any chances on a worldwide investigation. Too many eyes would be dangerous, far too dangerous to even contemplate. He needed to buy his time, give the kid some breathing room.

Zack waited for the next question, but surprisingly Hawthorn seemed to be finished because he closed his notepad and placed it back in his jacket pocket. There was something odd about him that Zack couldn't pinpoint—a strange thought, since he didn't know the police chief, had never seen him before in his life. He leaned back against his pillow and rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering how to explain his odd feeling without jeopardizing the investigation. His eyes felt sandy as images of the kidnapping raced by again.

"I'll leave you for now, but I'll be back soon when you've had a chance to recuperate a bit." Hawthorn smiled when he said this, and something about that smile reminded Zack of an old movie he'd watched as a kid. Scenes from _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ ousted the kidnapping filled with the Grinch's grinning green face. Zack had to shake his head a couple of times to clear his mind, but a sneaking suspicion replaced it. While he had no reason to mistrust or misjudge this so-called police chief, he couldn't stop himself from doing so. Once the man had left, he actually felt relieved.

"I just had the oddest thought," Moseby told the two occupants in the room.

"What was it?" Maya asked.

Moseby looked at her, then exchanged a glance with the boy in the bed. He recognized that look, and he knew that he was thinking along the same lines.

"I think I'll make a call to an old friend of mine."

"Who?" Zack asked.

"His name is Jack Matthews. He's a PI on the island and an old college friend of mine. He's the best in the business and we could use his expertise."

"Will he be able to find Cody?" Zack immediately sat up straighter at Maya's question.

"I won't promise anything, but Jack is the best at what he does. I'll leave it at that."

AN: It was hard to write this chapter because most of what I wanted to incorporate had already been done wonderfully in owlhero's chapter. So its short and too the point. LOL! : )


	3. Chapter 3 by Owlhero

**Chapter 3**

**by owlhero**

Zack was a maelstrom of emotions.

Anger at the fact he was stuck in the hospital room. Not even the air conditioner and the sun rays could lift his spirit.

Exasperation at the police chief who decided the boy in the hospital gown and the IV in his arm did not need to know information about the state of the investigation in the kidnapping of his own twin brother.

The stinging sensation from his flexing hand merely added to Zack's state of displeasure at his state of affairs. The metallic protrusions sent shivers down his spine at the thought of the nurses having to remove them.

Fear engulfed him as he remembered his brother being dragged into the van, Cody's sneaker-clad feet the last things he saw of his twin and the license plate numbers staring back at him as his eyes faded to black.

The maelstrom tore him up inside as it clashed with two choices. To rip apart the island day and night, sifting through every particle of sand until he found his twin.

Or he could figure out a plan—find leads, use his brains for good instead of pranks.

But he could not do any of that while lying in the recovery wing of a hospital, wearing only a hospital gown and his boxers.

But Lady Luck was smiling on him today, for she had brought him an opportunity—a chance to get Cody back.

The messenger took the form of a Mr. Marion Moseby. The same short, authoritarian, no-thrills man he and Cody had driven bonkers since they were twelve.

_How ironic is this? I torture him with luggage disasters, schemes and pranks to drive him insane, and he knows someone who could help me? …Maybe I should be nicer to him from now on?_

_That could be the concussion talking…_

Zack's mind refocused as the ship's manager wove a tale about a private detective named Jack Matthews…

"Well I guess I should start at the beginning…" Moseby smiled at the memories rushing from his past and glanced at Maya, who was sitting a few feet from him.

"It all started in college for us, so innocently. I was of course studying for the hospitality industry." Moseby ignored Zack's smirk. "Jack was studying at the university nearby for pre-law and psychology in anticipation of earning a master's degree in criminology. As a result, university and college students hung out at the same places or visited each other in the dorms on the weekends."

A nurse interrupted the group as she checked Zack and his monitors, leaving as silently as she came, smiling to the patient as she left.

"Jack and I actually met on a miniature golf course one night on Spring Break," Moseby said.

"You met him playing Putt-Putt Golf?" Zack's eyes glittered as he messed with the IV cord on the bed.

"Zack!" Maya interrupted him. "I'm sure Mr. Moseby has a perfectly good reason for playing golf during one of the best partying weeks of the year."

A jesting tone betrayed Maya's serene face as she finished.

"Yes I do… I was broke during that period. With my family situation, there was barely any extra spending money for my mother to give me." Moseby looked out the window as he said this, ignoring the mockery rather than sympathy he sensed from the two young adults in the room, sunlight blending with his white blazer and tan shorts.

"I received a scholarship to go to college, so I did not have any tuition bills. But unfortunately I decided to move away from my mother for school, thus I needed to work. I worked between classes and on weekends. I ended up have to pay for an apartment, plus living expenses."

His eyes moved to the reflections of Zack and Maya, whose faces reflected surprise at the intimate knowledge falling into their laps of a friend, guardian, and mentor. The pair's earlier humor had been forgotten in the weight of the moment.

"I could not afford the costs of taking a vacation to a warm climate when I had to worry about making the next month's rent."

Moseby's smile eased, deleting the memories of the exhausting sixteen- to eighteen-hour days going from classes to the college bookstore, helping fellow students find the correct editions, and studying until all hours of the night.

His small hands adjusted the blazer as he sat straighter in his chair. The rubbing of the buttons and the fabric echoed in the room.

"Anyway, I met Jack playing miniature golf. I waited for him to finish the hole in front of me while his girlfriend attempted to bounce the ball off the clown's foot to hole it. The first thing I remembered about Jack was his spirit. He always seemed to be alive, trying to get involved in everything around him. He was what you would call a free spirit. He wanted to make the world a better place. I found that part of him energizing to be around. His determination was almost overpowering. Once he put his mind to something, he would not stop until he finished.

"Even though we spent only a hour or two navigating the course and each other's intellects, we uncovered a mutual love of discovery. For Jack, it was the cause of people's actions and their consequences, while for me, it was the unveiling of myself and helping others.

"I said goodbye after the final round and we went our separate ways, never realizing we would meet under much tenser circumstances."

"Tenser circumstances?" Zack's voice leaked unnatural nervousness.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, the event changed both of our lives." Moseby's flint eyes sparked at this. "All due to a stupid mistake on my part. Which very nearly cost me my life."

Two pairs of eyes stared at Moseby. The hotel manager had been in life-risking circumstances?

"All the combined hours of my schooling and work did not lend to a healthy social life…" Sadness eclipsed Moseby's tone. "I had no girlfriend, very few friends in college outside class. Eventually it all came back and bit me on the butt. I ended up in a bar one night the week before midterms, trying to drown my cares in watered-down beer.

"It seems shocking you would do such a thing as drinking when stressed out," Maya said. "I mean, we've always seen you mostly under control. Even when Zack pulls his pranks or practically sinks the ship, you're always somewhat under control."

"That's true." Moseby smirked at Zack's expression as he looked at his girlfriend. "However, with age comes wisdom." Ignoring a snort from Zack, he said, "I have other ways of dealing with stress. You know, like exercise or yoga."

Both Zack and Maya snickered.

"As usual, my younger self had a few too many beers and started arguing with other patrons." Moseby grimaced as memories arose—tripping over stools, knocking mixed drinks and shots of Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan to the floor. The fuzzy lightning, the disorientation, the nausea all revived themselves. On their heels arrived shame, tripling his pulse and exposing the vein in his forehead. Now came images of the wood-grain floor, his nose smashed, the nerves in his cheeks on fire from the force of the blow. The taste of iron in his blood as it pooled on the floor around his nose, uncertainty over how he'd landed there.

"Before I knew it, I was on the ground. I tried to get up, but my arms failed me. Hands pulled my useless body upright. I must have looked ridiculous." Moseby almost laughed at the memory of his own helplessness.

"When my vision cleared, I saw a face. It was my old friend Jack. I had no idea of why he was there, but thank goodness he was. He somehow lugged me out as he negotiated his way through the crowd. I could barely hear him smooth talk his past a few people who wanted to talk to me. As you could imagine, their tones were not exactly polite."

"I bet not…You trashed their place. I think I'd want to talk to you if you did that to my bar." Zack's voice was humorous and serious at the same time.

Moseby looked at him, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. Zack got the message and amusement evaporated from his face.

Maya's voice ended the silent standoff between the two rivals. "Stuff like that happens in the Big Apple all the time. With all the sports crowds and everything, if everybody went ballistic over a few spilled beers, the city wouldn't have lasted this long. It probably would have exploded from the rage over spilled drinks."

Moseby ignored the jab. "Miraculously, I got back to my apartment in one piece and then proceeded to…well…suffer the consequences. But after that, Jack and I stayed in contact permanently. Soon after, Jack decided to get his hands dirty and applied to the police academy. At the time it seemed shocking. Only later did I realize something."

Moseby saw the wondering stares of the students and continued.

"Jack was applying his knowledge as a criminologist, which he pursed rigorously. In a twisted form, it was as if he was trying to test his own theories of the criminal mind like a scientist in the field, trying to figure out whether his hypotheses were correct or not."

"But wait," Maya interrupted. "How was he able to use criminology if he didn't graduate before becoming a cop?"

Moseby chuckled. "For most people, Maya, you would be right, but Jack by some unknown way, arranged his classes so by the time he started the police academy, he had finished with his criminology degree.

"The next time I saw Jack face to face was several years later, as I was working at the Boston Tipton. He was a rising sergeant in the Boston Police Department. He had gotten married to his college sweetheart and moved to Boston after spending time in NYC in the Bronx's major crimes unit."

"This guy must have been hardcore. I mean, dealing with death and blood in the 'hood. And still being able to just get on with it."

Moseby could hear the jealousy and excitement in Zack's voice. "Unfortunately Zack, all that blood and death came too close to home for Jack and changed him forever."

Sadness overwhelmed Moseby. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them, Maya was biting her lip while Zack had gone slightly pale.

"I received a call late at night after my shift. It was Jack. I could barely understand him, there was so much pain in his voice, as if it was stealing a piece of him of him with each second."

"What happened?" Maya asked, a quiver in her tough New Yorker voice.

Moseby dabbed his eyes with his pocket handkerchief. "From what I could piece together, Jack and his wife were walking to the subway one night, on their way home. It was a simple attempted robbery with lethal consequences. The thief surprised them both from behind with a gun, a desperate man just trying to scrape by, needing a few dollars. He panicked when he realized how little the pair had on them. In the end, he fired and hit Jack's wife in the chest. She died in his arms."

Maya rose from her chair, shaking slightly, and reached for Zack's hand. The two exchanged a glance, grateful to have each other in the middle of their own ordeal.

"After his wife's death, our contact became sporadic. Months passed between phone calls and even then they originated from his squad house at odd hours. It was almost as if he lived there."

"Sounds like those detectives on TV who would sleep in a backroom at work to get an early start on a case," Zack said. "That kind of job is tough on families, though."

Maya laughed at Zack. "You watch too much TV."

Zack glared at her, only to put his unbandaged hand to his head and grimace. Maya stopped smiling for a second until Zack looked at her and smiled. Maya returned it, and concern melted from her face.

Moseby's eyes glittered at the scene between the two. But he tried to continue with the tale.

"But I think Zack is right about Jack. He just seemed different from the man I met in college. He was so determined, he made detective. Our friendship was in tact, but he didn't talk about his job, only asked about mine. It was odd. Then I found out why."

Zack and Maya leaned, faces etched with concern.

The police department's Internal Affairs investigated him for his actions in a case. I don't know why but they dropped the case. Soon after, Jack mentioned he was moving to Jamaica. He said it was for a new job. I thought it was to start over. That was over twelve years ago."

"So that's how he ended up on the island. But you said he was a detective. How did he become a private investigator?" Zack's eyes had grown dazed but held focus despite the concussion.

"Well, Zack, I don't know the whole story, but all Jack said to me was he did not like how things were being run down here…However, the way he said it was curious. Working in Jamaica should be one of the better opportunities to fight crime at its roots, unless you're busy helping tourists who get lost on their way to the beach."

"Maybe he didn't get along with his bosses," Maya said. "That happens to everyone. Why not him?"

"If he had a boss like Edwin Hawthorn, I can see why," Zack blurted.

Moseby shrugged. "Only Jack knows the true reason behind it. Though it has to be huge for him to quit his job and go private."

Maya and Zack watched Moseby step toward the door, then turn to them.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to call Jack and see if he can help us. It helps us if we have another to find Cody. Unless there's an objection…"

When there was none, Moseby left the room.

"I'm heading to the cafeteria, do you want anything?" Maya asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Zack answered then groaned, holding his stomach. "I don't feel too good."

"Must be the concussion. I overheard the nurses telling Mr. Moseby nausea may be one of your symptoms. How about some soup then?"

"Okay…with lots of crackers."

Maya headed to the cafeteria, leaving Zack to his addled thoughts and churning stomach.

Ten minutes later, she backed into the room with two huge bowls of tomato soup on a tray full of crackers.

When she turned around, her face paled as she saw Zack had fallen asleep, cocooned in the sheets.

Soup bowls slid across the tray as she placed it on a chair, followed by the toppling of crackers.

"Zack! ZACK! WAKE UP!" She shook him until he rolled onto his back..

"Another five minutes, Cody. Who cares about Tut's test?"

Despite the circumstances, Zack's sleepy comment made Maya smile. She shook Zack again, more gently this time. "You need to stay awake."

Blue irises opened to the light, still foggy with dreams.

"Maya?"

When she nodded, Zack thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he might have been imagining things.

"I've brought lunch." Her voice echoed in Zack's consciousness.

As they dug into their food, the chirping of a bird outside the window brightened the mood in the quiet room.

"Zack?...what's wrong?" Maya asked, noticing Zack sip at his soup.

"I was wondering about Cody…where he is, how they are treating him, is he okay?" He moved the spoon in circles through the soup, as if in a trance.

"You done?" she asked.

Zack nodded, and she set his half-full bowl on the tray.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I should have been with Cody the whole time," he said. "Not… goofing off, checking out crap in the market." His conscience filled in the words he couldn't say to Maya: _flirting with those girls_.

"Zack…Things happen. You and Cody were paying attention to different things. In an open market like that, its hard to keep track of anyone. You practically have to be superglued together."

"But why did it have to be him? And why did he have to wander off down an alley? I mean, he's knows that's a risky thing to do."

"I'm don't know, Zack. Maybe he didn't realize what danger he was until it was too late.

"I can't be mad at him, he's still my brother. I shouldn't have let him go down that alley. That way he would still be with us."

"Cody is his own person. Yeah, he's your twin and probably the most important person in the world to you, but what you were going to do, lock him in his room? If he's anything like you, he probably would have found a way to get out anyway."

"In an overly complicated way so he could show off to everyone," Zack answered with a sad smile.

"I may not have known you two as long as the others, but I do know one thing: once either of you puts your minds to something, you either succeed brilliantly or/and cause destruction in the process. And from what I've heard, you are the eye of the hurricane when it comes to the chaos."

"Hey! Cody is not so innocent, you know? Zack blustered in defense of his honor. "He just doesn't does get in trouble very often and is very sneaky about it."

Maya had to smile, but her happy expression disappeared when Zack continued.

"I keep asking myself why it was Cody and not me? I'd give anything to switch places with him right now."

"I know you would," Maya answered, her hand on Zack's arm. "Anyone can see that. We can't truly know why. Sometimes it's just bad luck.

"That's just it. Was it bad luck? I mean, think about it. He's a tourist fresh off a boat. He doesn't know anyone on the island. Granted, he's probably the one person who doesn't live here who knows the most about the island."

Zack paused, his expression both intriguing and confusing Maya. He suddenly resembled the Thinking Man statute. In a hospital gown.

"Could that be it?...Could Cody's curiosity have gotten him into trouble?"

"I can see that happening to be honest," Maya said. "Sometimes curiosity can be too much of a good thing."

Zack wanted to tell Maya she was wrong, but realized he couldn't.

"I guess Cody didn't listen to the very small part of his mind that's street smart."

"Could be." Maya's neutral tone spoke volumes.

"It just not fair. I would have known not to get involved. But Cody had no idea. He probably told them off when he saw they were doing something bad. Damn him and his kind, humanitarian nature." Zack grabbed a pillow from behind his head and punched it.

Maya watched silently, hoping he wouldn't thump something harder.

"If I'd been there earlier, if those guys had seen me, I could have distracted them, given Cody time to escape…" Zack punched the pillow again.

"If I'd been there with him, we could gotten away together. He'd still be here and I wouldn't be stuck in this stupid hospital, unable to do anything. Who knows what they've been doing to Cody all this time? They could have…"

"You can't think like that, Zack. You have to keep up hope for your twin."

"Why should I? All this is my fault."

"Really, all your fault? Is your fault Cody has a habit of poking his nose everywhere? Is your fault Cody went to the island this morning? Heck, even decided to get out of bed and see the natives after being stuck on a ship for the last week?"

Maya's slap-to-the-face questions stunned Zack. He sat back for a few with his knees up against his chest while Maya waited for him to respond.

"How do you know when to do that?" Zack asked her after a few moments.

"Its an acquired skill. Its up there with learning how to flag a taxi during a New York rush hour. Sometimes you have to be completely blunt."

"Cool." Zack messed with the gown for a second, then looked at Maya again, his face full of deep worry mixed with fear.

"Maya, is there any reason they would keep Cody alive?"

"I don't know, Zack." Maya looked away for a second. "What was that area like?"

"It was sort of hidden from plain view. I remember the locals avoiding that alley when we were near it. I got weird feeling from it when I passed by like we shouldn't have been there." The twin's eyes awakened with the description.

"So that it could have been used for drug deals or something."

"Yeah, maybe. " Zack seemed to seemed to perk up, distracted from his gloomy thoughts.

" Let's go with that premise. So that means the kidnappers are it in for money. We can guess they were worried about Cody ratting them out to the police, thus cutting off their income stream."

Zack jumped in. "So you're thinking Cody caught them in the act and they're keeping him until their current deal goes down."

"Why not? They hang onto him, maybe blindfold him and hide him away from everything. They can finish the deal and then drop him off in a different part of the city. With Cody not knowing the city or his holding location, he wouldn't be able to help the authorities stop them until it was too late.

"And by the way, you say I watch too much TV," Zack shot back. "Your idea is straight out of a crime novel.

"I thought you didn't like to read."

"Textbooks, yes. Comic books and stories about gangsters interest me. But seriously, how do you know all this?"

"Sorry, but this is from real life. Some people in my old neighborhood New York have family members who are involved in some not-so-legal financial activities. They say if the money is worth it and the risk is low enough, they're willing to do it.

"But in the meantime, you have to rest." Maya saw Zack start to groan. "Or do I have to get the nurse with the BIG needle to make you fall asleep, which you know, could be dangerous since you have a concussion?"

"All right, all right, I give" Zack laughed, settling against his pillows.

Maya carried the tray to the door.

"I'll go see what taking Mr. Moseby so long. "If you need anything, even just someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

"Since when did you go soft?" Zack asked with a raised eyebrow.

Maya glared at him lightly. "I may be a New York girl, but I still have a heart when it comes to the people I care about."

"Even London?"

Maya laughed. "Yes, even when London is having one of her moments."

The two shared a smile. Maya set down the tray and returned to Zack's bedside.

Zack froze as Maya hugged him, his face registering shock given the previous moments, her perfume invading his nose.

Maya let go of Zack and said a simple phrase: "There's room in my heart for you as well."

The door opened and closed, leaving a self proclaimed-player frozen in place.

"Thank you, Jack, for coming so quickly."

"I was only playing golf, Marion. I just finished a case a couple of days ago."

The two men entered the recovery wing from the warm weather outside. Sunlight blasting through the windows enlarged the shadows to cover the wall behind them.

They passed the nurse's station. The occupants smiled at Jack Matthews, dressed in a gray button collared shirt and khaki pants, a five o'clock shadow giving him a vaguely grizzled appearance. as they prepared for the next frantic call from a patient regarding a bedpan, morphine drip, or even a TV remote.

The room numbers on the tan plaques blended into the walls to lessen patients' stress, but the supply closets and views into patient rooms provide a normal hospital atmosphere.

The sterile air reminded Jack of a different scene, one he wanted to forget.

Flashing ambulance lights, shouts about his wife's practically nonexistent blood pressure and pulse.

Blue uniforms with the insignia of Emergency Medical Technician as they tried to pry the fallen form from his grip.

The screaming, the crying from a source unfamiliar to him.

Then his mind told him it was himself. He denied it, of course. It could not true. He'd just had dinner with her. She had chicken parmesan and spaghetti, mozzarella cheese piled on a mountain of filling carbohydrates. Jack had a medium rare sirloin steak with a baked potato overloaded with sour cream. Both topped off their meals with a shared slice of Boston cream pie.

_Oh Caroline…_

The memory had faded, the waitress and the inside of the diner erased, but it haunted him at odd and random times.

"Are you alright, Jack?" Moseby asked the private investigator.

Jack smiled at his old college chum. "Yes, Marion, I'm fine. I was just thinking over the case you want to help on. I'd rather get started right away."

"I am glad you want to get started. Everyone is worried about Cody considering the situation. However, if you give me a minute, I'll introduce you to Zack. I'll just see how he is and if he is up to it."

"I have a feeling he'll be as willing as I am considering his brother is the one in trouble."

"That's an understatement." Moseby searched the hall for Zack's doctor.

Jack turned and almost got run over by a freight train.

"Oh…excuse me. I'm trying get to that man right behind you."

"Oh course…Edwin."

Edwin Hawthorn stood back and looked at Jack.

His eyes widened. He began to sweat, and his blood pressure soared as he recognized the man in front of him. Visions of a now-former co-worker cleaning out the desk opposite his desk in disgust, Cardboard boxes stacked on his desk with a shield on top.

"Jack Matthews! What in blazes are you doing here?"

Well…Edwin, I'm here to start an investigation in regards to a relative of a patient in this hospital. As a matter of fact, I'm going to see him now."

Edwin was a bull ready to charge after a matador with a red muleta, Jack's presence infuriating him more by the second. His eyes sprouted thunder at the man in front of him, steam rushing from his nostrils.

Yet Jack made no move, a slight narrowing of his eyes the only change to his serene face.

The blood lowered from Edwin's eyes as he regained control, his face dehorned and back to its human form. "May I ask whose case you are looking at? Maybe I can help?"

"It involves one Zackary Martin. His brother has been missing for the last several hours after an incident in the market. Zack was knocked out during his attempt to prevent the crime."

Jack saw Edwin's reaction—a tightening of his fist, which only limited his own reaction even further.

"I see you know of the case?"

"Yes, my men are working on it currently and are using all available resources to find him. I am sure we don't we don't need your assistance, Jack. My people can handle it."

"I'm sure they can." Jack intentionally put the emphasis on the pronoun.

Edwin ignored the snipe, even though it galled him. "Jack? We're on the same side. We both want what's best here: for that young man to come back alive."

"His name is Cody, by the way. Remember that. Unfortunately, there's no way I can leave this alone. Marion Moseby is an old friend. He called me in on this as a favor. He's known both the boys forever and cares about them a lot. He's putting out all the stops to make sure Cody comes back in one piece."

Edwin's eyes blazed as Jack turned his back to him. "Well, I wish us both good luck in our investigations. Let's hope we don't step on each other's toes.

Edwin watched Jack stride down the hallway, then spun on his heel.

Nurses and patients swerved around him as he barreled toward his officers, waiting in the lounge.

"Sir, are you okay?"

Edwin glared at the speaker before clearing his face for a second.

The duo of cops backed away from their boss as he bore down on them, anxiety tightening their faces as they waited for their boss to say something.

"Listen and listen good."

The officers practically stood at attention at Edwin's commanding tone.

"You will watch Zack Martin every second of every day. Just follow him and make sure he doesn't do anything he's not supposed to. We cant afford for something to happen to him as well."

The officers recognized Edwin's tone, and it terrified them.

"The same with Jack Matthew. He may have been one of us, but he isn't anymore."

The officers had heard of Jack Matthews. The veteran of the force. A go-getter. A principled man who stuck to his guns.

The officers nodded, but Edwin ignored them. "He would just get in the way of our work. Make sure he doesn't affect the status quo.

Understood?"

The voice resonated in each officer's brain. They swallowed quickly, glanced at each other, and nodded in agreement.

"Good" The smile on Edwin's face seemed unnatural. A lion among zebras, licking his chops at anyone who dared violate his law. "Very well then. Proceed. Quickly. Or you know who will suffer the consequences."

The officers disappeared in a blink of an eye, desperate to please their supervisor while thoughts of their families loomed large. They had reason to worry. Those who didn't please Edwin suffered "misfortune" at the hands of the police chief. At best, their careers ended then and there.

After all, it was rumored Edwin tossed Jack's career to the side. So why he could not do theirs just as easy?

At worst proved too hard to think about.

"Hey, doc?" piped a voice from the next hallway. "When can I leave? This place sucks, and I can't stand to be here another minute."

"Well, young man, we have to make sure you're stable enough before we can let you leave," The doctor said.

Zack ignored the pretty nurse standing in the doorway. Moseby and Maya stayed seated next to the bed.

"The doctor's right, young man," Edwin said, materializing beside the nurse. "They have to make sure you won't fall down and hurt yourself the second you get out of bed."

Hearing the sneer in Edwin's voice, Zack wanted to scratch him from the room with his glare. Who did this police chief think he was? But Zack kept his mouth shut. He had more important things to worry about.

A second later, Jack appeared and interrupted the police chief.

"If I may intervene on Zack's behalf, what would prevent him from leaving the hospital?" he asked the doctor.

"As you can see, Zack is still recovering from the injuries he sustained in the incident this morning," the doctor answered in his stable, professional tone. "We have to make sure he's stable enough for release."

"Well, what about the last set of tests done on him?" Moseby spoke inquisitively and politely, but at the same time, there was something else in his voice. "Did they show anything unexpected?"

"Ah no, they did not…but…" The doctor's eyes veered toward the police chief.

Maya spoke up in her fierce soprano, "The concussion is the only thing keeping Zack, right? If' it's a minor one, can't he be allowed to leave? The _SS Tipton_ has medical facilities available if he has a relapse."

"That's true, young lady…" The doctor's voice trembled at the onslaught. "…But we're waiting on the results of Mr. Martin's last brain scan and cognitive test. They should be here any moment. If they are the—"

"I can't wait…" Zack let out a pained sigh and drummed his fingers on his covered leg.

Five minutes later, the doctor received a file.

"It turns out you did fine and we can release you…" He tried to continue, but a shout from his patient interrupted him. He showed a hint of annoyance as he waited for Zack's zeal to settle.

"…I just ask you to be careful. Headaches and nausea may persist for two or three days. And try not to exert yourself. Over-exertion can trigger a relapse, making recovery take longer."

Zack nodded, while Maya added, "We'll try to make sure he does not try too hard, but he can be hard to control sometimes."

The doctor replied with a smile, "I understand, youth tend to think they're invincible. But please watch for any issues and if they flare up, make sure he gets examined as soon as possible."

Moseby and Maya understood their instructions.

Jack watched as Edwin grimaced and glanced at Zack as the doctor left and soon followed him out. Jack's left eyebrow rose as he thought about Edwin's reaction.

In what seemed like no time at all, Zack had been disconnected from the IV tubes and was back in his jeans and T-shirt.

"C'mon, doc, I don't need the wheelchair, I'm fine."

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you have to. You are still under my care."

"Since when?" Zack rolled his eyes in frustration. "You told me to be careful."

"Well, the wheelchair will help you in that manner."

"This is why I hate hospitals. You doctors are so restrictive."

The doctor smiled at the blond twin. "It's for your safety."

"He's right, you know."

Zack turned to see Mr. Moseby finish the sentence.

"Zack, I have known you for years. You are the type of person who sometimes does not think through everything before doing it. Which can be good or bad depending on the situation. The one we are in now falls in between both good and bad. It all depends on your choices."

Zack understood what Moseby was saying and listened while he continued.

"As for the wheelchair, I advise you to take the wheelchair for now. I suspect you will need the strength for what's going on."

"Okay." Zack relented. "But I won't like it."

"That would be too much to ask for." A smile marched across Moseby's face as he shook his head.

The group, including Jack Matthews, exited the hospital after saying their goodbyes and promising to be careful with Zack.

But Zack stopped the wheelchair as soon as Maya had him rolled him through the hospital's front doors.

"Zack? What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I 'm getting out of the wheelchair."

"Are you insane?" Moseby screeched, attracting scowls and curious stares from passersby—patients and their visitors, tourists, locals, nurses.

Moseby lowered his voice. "Did you not hear what the doctor said? He told not to exert yourself." His eyes popping from their sockets, along with the vein in his forehead.

Zack moved his feet from the supports and they hit the ground, kicking up dust and petals that had fallen from flowerpots nearby.

"I don't listen to you, why should I listen to him?" he said, checking his pockets for his possessions.

Moseby ran his hand over the top of his head and sighed. "Indeed, so true. You are a stubborn hooligan."

Zack grinned at his one-upon-a-time nemesis and lifted himself from the chair, his arms straightening as he stood. His legs quivered as his full body weight fell on them., but he stayed upright. He smirked at his audience, pride in full bloom.

"See, told you I didn't need a wheelchair."

Zack's vision wavered, the surroundings blending into a swirl of color as his head spun. Or was it the ground? His knees gave out and he swayed, eyes on the fading red of hospital's brick walkway.

Arms shot out before he ended up with even more injuries, some physical, others to his ego.

"Need a little help?"

At the familiar perfume, Zack opened his eyes. He saw what appeared to be cotton with a head of brown hair .

A perfect view, Maya filling his vision with her warm smile. Her arms wrapped around his own, pinning them to his sides. For a second, he didn't want to move.

Then reality kicked in.

"Thanks, Maya."

She released him, and Zack repositioned himself for a better view.

"Sure you're not overdoing it, Zack?" Jack said.

Zack looked at the private detective. He appeared relaxed.

Zack did not quite trust him. Nonetheless, the way Jack helped with the doctor did not put him on Zack's bad side either. Yet.

"Maybe I did, but right now I have other things to worry about. Like Cody."

"I understand. I know what it's like to be extremely focused. But there's a cost for it." Jack frowned and lowered his eyes for a second. "But it's up to you. Why don't we go to my office? It's a few blocks away, and we can continue our conversations there."

The group agreed.

Zack tried to move forward but staggered again. Maya grabbed him around his waist.

"Is this going to be a common occurrence?" she asked.

"I hope not. I don't want anyone to think I can't take care of myself. But in this case, I'll make an exception."

"Good or we may never get to Jack's office with you slithering on the ground or tripping over every crack in the sidewalk, " she said.

Zack put his arm around Maya's shoulders, and the group plodded their way to the PI's office.

Needing a few moments alone, Jack told Moseby, Maya, and Zack to sit in the waiting area while he organized files for the case.

Sitting back in his chair, he rewound the situation in his head.

He had a missing student in the city taken after witnessing something. The only other witness was his twin, who had been knocked unconscious trying to intervene.

Another layer was the fact both were students on board the _SS Tipton_, the "academic" institution sponsored by the head of Tipton Industries…

A twist of the door knob derailed his train of thought.

"Jack I think we need to talk. Now" His old friend Marion stood in the doorway, flanked by Zack and Maya.

"Of course, sit down. I was just going over the case and figuring an idea of what to do…"

Moseby was almost bowled over to the floor as Zack shoved his way into the room.

"Jack, I want in," Zack said.

Jack observed the teen with varying amounts of annoyance, amusement, and shock.

"I see you've recovered already."

"I'm fine. Lunch filled me up." Zack put his unbandaged hand on the wall to steady himself.

"That's good because you almost broke me with the meal tab." Jack smiled at his own joke.

"We have to ban him from the buffet after his second or third helpings sometimes." Moseby said as he pick himself up from the floor and brushed himself off. He glared at the offender, who was still boring holes into Jack's skull.

"Hey, I have a missing brother here." Zack's outburst killed the humor.

"So you want to get involved?" Jack asked, and Zack nodded.

"Why do you think I should let you help me? In my line of work, the victim's family members often get in the way of an investigation, not aid it.

At the eruption in Zack's eyes, Jack knew he'd hit a sore spot.

"Because…" Jack felt the pain, destruction, and guilt in the layered response. "…I have already been turned down once by that idiot police chief, Edwin Hawthorn. Besides, I can't just sit around and wait while who knows what happens to my brother, especially since I failed to do anything to stop it. In the end, you need all the help you can get."

Jack leaned in his chair and looked up at Zack, who had closed the ten feet from the doorway to the desk, passing the two chairs and the potted plant in the process.

The room contained a standard wooden desk in a dark mahogany, paintings of plants and wildlife, Behind Jack, small framed photos, including some of Moseby and Jack in their younger years.

Jack blocked out the details of his office as he processed the complications of the situation. He sympathized with Zack's predicament, with the desire to solve the crisis because he blamed himself for not being able to stop it in the first place. He could still the remember blood drenching his hands and clothes as Caroline lay dying in his arms, the way she cried, begged him to save her. When he screamed for help, his voice merely echoed into silence. That helplessness he felt as the last warm breath seeped from her mouth and touched his face. How her eyes faded and her hand unclenched and hit the ground, death slowly eclipsing her remains with cold air, leaving her a husk to decay.

Jack mentally shook himself. No doubt Zack was brimming with guilt over what he was able and not able to do.

_Maybe this is his way of redeeming himself to himself or others?_

Jack set aside the question for later and concentrated on exploring all angles. Should he allow Zack anywhere near the investigation?

The first problem was that if he did not let Zack get involved, the boy could start a crusade to find his twin. He could turn the town inside out, stirring up trouble .

It was easy to imagine the anarchy an emotional, unthinking, impulsive eighteen-year-old could cause in a city this size, ranging from walking into places he shouldn't to having the police and Jack's team chase him down, thereby preventing them from doing their own jobs.

Ultimately, Zack could get lost or captured—causing Jack a whole new set of problems. The least of which would be how to get both twins out alive without getting himself killed as well.

And, on the other end of this internal dialogue, further aggravating Jack's dilemma: what if he did let Zack get involved?

It was just as easy to imagine all of his carefully laid plans erode to dust if the boy made a single decision without checking in with him. And heaven forgive Jack if Zack got his hands on a weapon—not impossible in a city like this. Guns going off in places in they should not, injuring and maybe killing people he needed to question for information.

God, the mountains of paperwork, questioning by local and international authorities, the possible loss of his PI license all due to one unqualified decision by an eighteen-year-old with no impulse control.

_What if Zack dies during the investigation?_

Of all the questions running through his mind, this one scared Jack the most.

He could not fathom a scenario in which Cody was recovered alive from whoever had taken him, only to have to tell him his twin had died in the effort. Jack did not think he would be able to look into the matching eyes of the twin, whose other half only hours before had been fighting to find him.

Visions of Zack dying in the effort now replaced Caroline's image so easily it was sickening. Why did this case touch him so? Because Zack and he shared the same feelings of guilt for inaction? One for his wife, the other for his identical twin brother?

Jack stole a look at his late wife's bracelet as he split himself into parts, grappling with the decision.

An additional factor was how his friend from college would react to such a catastrophe. Oh no, that just made it harder.

_Zack is the damned variable in all of this, isn't he? So easy to predict, but very hard to plan for or against for that matter._

Just as Jack thought his mind was made up, his conscience decided to add yet another factor to the equation.

_You don't think you're doing this for revenge against Edwin, do you? A middle finger salute by using the boy for your selfish means?_

As the questions mocked him, he could not deny their truth.

_After all, he destroyed what YOU tried to recreate. A life. It would only be fair to see you return the favor. A least a little bit anyway._

Jack needed a half-second to collect his thoughts and finalize his decision.

He looked at Zack, whose face creased as he waited.

"Alright, Zack, I've decided to let you in on the investigation."

Zack exploded with emotion, but a warning look from Moseby killed his boy's launch into space.

"However, when we start searching for clues, you do as exactly as I say without question." When Zack started to object, he said, "If you don't, I will cut you from the investigation and make sure you stay locked in your cabin or hotel room with a watch posted until it is completed. Am I crystal clear?"

Zack looked at Jack and saw granite eyes. No way to get around this. He nodded quickly.

"Good. Now, let's get started. Sit down. We have some things to discuss."

His audience of three complied.

"First order of business: the police went over the security footage from the area where Cody was taken. They think they saw some known members of a local gang, but since the cameras are older than dirt, the footage doesn't allow for a one hundred percent match to anyone in their files."

"Who cares if it's not a complete match, it's a lead." Zack shouted out. Moseby scowled at him.

"I happen to agree with you, Zack, so we will proceed on that front as well as others."

"We have to be careful," squeaked Moseby.

"Maya said Cody might have seen a drug deal or something go down. and they wanted to hold him until it was over."

Jack tapped his pencil on the desk. "I can certainly see that happening here, Zack. This paradise can hold its fair share of blemishes. Drugs and human trafficking, for example."

Zack' gaped at him, bug-eyed. Jack realized his mistake and corrected instantly.

"However in this case, I am betting on an interrupted drug deal with Cody in the middle."

"What do we do?" Jack heard the tremor in Zack's question, and his heart went out to the young man.

"Here's what we do…"

After Moseby, Zack, and Maya had learned the basics of the plan and gone back to the resort to collect their belongings, Jack was left to do some soul searching. Again the ringing of the phone interrupted him.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Matthews?

The voice on the other end startled Jack, but he refocused in a heartbeat.

"Well, its good to hear from you sir."

"I see my salary has provided for the best communications possible."

"Yes, sir, it has."

"Good. I heard you just solved a case that dealt with an issue we are both familiar with?"

"Yes, sir I did. It just wrapped a case couple of days ago. It was very successful. With the evidence I have collected, the official and the trafficker were put away. Combined sentences equaled over twenty years.

"Very good, Mr. Matthews. I hope you have another case lined up to tackle?"

"Unfortunately, I have another case that has caught my attention," Jack proceeded to outline the fundamentals of the case.

"Ah yes, I have heard of the case from my sources in the area. How sad. Well, good luck in it."

Jack raged in silence at the speaker's utter disregard for the people in the case. Considering the speaker's own personal affairs… it was distasteful.

"Sir, the people is this case, especially the boys' safety, are my first priority."

"I understand that and I admire your drive. But if there's anyway you can get rid of the threat to my business in the area while doing this, it would be greatly appreciated. They are preventing my enterprises from broadening and I would like to expand into this new frontier."

"Of course, sir. I will try my best in both my efforts. "

"I am happy to hear that for both of us. Besides we are both getting something out of this. I will be impacting on the local market while you will get paid a handsome salary."

"Thank you, sir, it's a lot of work."

"I know the meaning of work. If you succeed in taking out the threats to my interests in the case you're handling, there will be a handsome reward for you. One which I think you will enjoy."

Again Jack heard the mocking voice. This time there was a greedy snarl to it. Like it was focused on personal advancement above all else.

"I understand completely, sir."

"I am sure you do, Mr. Matthews. I am sure you do."

The dial tone droned in his ear and Jack disconnected the call. How deep was this hole—this hole into which he had dug himself?


	4. Chapter 4 by Owlhero

**Chapter 4**

**by owlhero**

Jamaican sunlight filtered through the cracked windows of the warehouse, creating broken rainbows. The colors faded as if acknowledging the dark deeds committed in this place where dreams died, where dreams shriveled up from lack water, unfertilized by hope.

The steel crates lay open, waiting to be packed and shipped to unknown destinations, surrounded by stacks of country of origin labels and laminated paper. Packing peanuts covered the floor, masking the grime built up over decades of abuse and wear.

A nail poked through the sneaker sole of the warehouse's newest arrival…

_Ouch! Stupid nail! Why couldn't they clean the floor for once! They're just like Zack!_

Cody halted as he remembered his twin. The shove to his back forced him deeper into the room, and the nail pierced his rubber insole. Pain fired, causing him to in front of the pairs of eyes watching his every move, adding insult to injury.

He stopped to lean against a pole. A sense of relief washed over Cody as the tip of the nail narrowly escaped from the arch of his left foot.

Seconds later the back of his head hit the steel. Cody cursed himself for being all elbows and knees. The stars cleared in front of his eyes. His mouth fell open, and he felt himself blanche at the sight facing him.

Shadows scattered among the crates, as though trying to spare themselves the embarrassment of being seen, society's empty holes, their souls torn from past lives, detached from meaning.

In those past lives, these shadows had been considered humans. But now?...

The atmosphere darkened around the newest occupant as reality shattered his carefully constructed world.

Rust flakes colored his shirt as Cody's body weight strained the pole, while his brain refused to accept what his eyes saw and his nose smelled. A hand brushed the flakes off his shoulders. The movement vanished from his memory before Cody could process it.

_What am I looking at?_

He took a couple of breaths as he stared at the humans on the floor in front of him. They sure did not look like humans.

His eyes fell on a woman just a few feet away from him. In another life, Venus would have seemed ugly in comparison, but not the way Cody saw her now. Her skin had lost its luster, a paint job rusted away from pressure, leaving the base coat exposed. Black threads straggled from a thinning scalp, tic-tac-toe patterns across her forehead, waiting to be marked with her final destination.

Cody looked into her eyes, and the hope inside him melted. He was Icarius watching the wax start to melt from his feather-built wings from the sun. Realization dawned on him as he fell closer and closer to the water, ready to swallow him.

Yet something Cody did not know he had inside him clicked, and he inched away from the half-filled human portrait, ready to see what the rest of this purgatory had to show him. His sneaker soles bounced on the floor as he to avoid various limbs and objects strewn about. The smell of sweat, depression, fear and who knows what else overwhelming his nostrils.

As he not so gently pushed toward a group of (Cody could hardly believe this is what they were) humans, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side. Cody shivering in fear at the touch of this new person, whose fingers turned his jacket inside out. Figures and numerals drifted inside Cody's mind as he searched for holes inside Einstein's theories, where his mind retreated in times of extreme stress.

A shotgun blast voice exploded the equation Cody was trying to solve, the figures falling into a game of Tetris only to pile up as the twin's brain regained some sense of reality.

The voice was rough and deep as it dug its way into Cody's consciousness. The accent shattered his remaining defenses as he realized this inspector had awoken him from his conjectural journey.

"Hey you?"

Cody only nodded to show he heard him. The man frowned but continued.

"It seems like we have a VIP in our midst." Cody flinched at the cold humor in the man's tone. "This young man is from the _SS Tipton_. You know that luxury liner docked in the bay? I better tell the boss about this."

A cell phone appeared out of thin air.

Cody looked around while his interrogator talked and thought he saw something that horrified him.

_Is that a child?_

He saw a small form with its back against a wall. An impish boy, smaller then when he and Zack had arrived at the Tipton Hotel years ago. Faded jean shorts, a T- shirt, and sandals completed his ensemble. The shorts were torn, and a rip split the cartoonish creature on the T-shirt, while the sandals soles flopped in the air, allowing dirt to cake on the child's feet.

_How can he survive in a place like this?_

Astonishment and admiration for the human spirit rolled through Cody as he watched the lad continue what he was doing.

_He's actually drawing in the dust on the floor…I don't believe it._

Cody took a step. There in the dust he thought he saw the beginnings of a house, but before he could get closer to the blossoming artist, his own shirt collar choked him.

He was snapped around into the eyes of his interrogator.

"Well, it looks like my boss has a different idea for you…It seems he's taken a special interest in your situation." Cody saw the fuzzy image of his Tipton ID card in the man's hand, but his focus remained on the man's face.

"We're going to give you special accommodations for your stay here."

Something about the man's eyes said more about his future situation than Cody wanted to know.

The first look Cody received at his "home" was the floor his head slammed into. When he pushed himself off the floor with his hands. he felt concrete instead of the wooden slats he'd been standing on.

He searched his surroundings, seeking any possibility that a change in venue had improved things.

He found himself disappointed.

Needlessly to say, comforts of home did not exist here. A small cot sat in the corner of the room, covered with a light blanket.

_How generous of them_, he thought sarcastically.

In the middle of the room stood an old-fashioned wooden table with a single chair.

Spartan was the only description to come to mind. Beyond a few torn posters on the walls, the room showed very little indication of human occupation.

Especially since there was one thing missing…

The toilet.

Or so he thought until he spotted the door in the back corner of the room, opposite the cot. The door melted into the wall. He approached the door and turned the knob.

A loud screeching clenched his teeth.

_At least they'll know when I have to go…_

Cody shook his head at the thought.

"That's something Zack would say."

The prisoner paused, thinking of his twin crumpled on the ground after being hit in the back of his head. Tears formed in his eyes, as he wondered if his twin was still alive. The door opened, pushing the distressing image away for a second.

Inside was the porcelain god with its modern miracle, indoor plumbing, plus a sink a few feet away. Cody let out a sigh.

"At least it's better than a bucket."

Cody realized what he said and smiled at the crude humor. Shaking his head, he closed the door.

"London wouldn't last five seconds in this room. She'd die at the sight at the bare floors." After the hotel heiress's attitude toward comfort ran through his mind, Cody walked to the thin cot.

The quiet crushed him. He could not run away from it now. Not even the light bulb hanging from loose wires provided any illumination to the situation.

The entire vacation came back to Cody in a flash. The women, the drinking (_Zack forced me, I swear_), and finally the market with its defense-weakening throngs of bronzed bodies, both male and female, glistening with beads of sweat, strategically arranged fabrics, and sunny smiles. Cody's heart and blood had magnified the normal thoughts of the teenage mind, adrenaline and testosterone buzzing around in his bloodstream, injecting it with their mind-altering chemicals.

The sweet nectar of the fruits quenched his thirsts while the kiss of the alcohol awoke ancient and lowbrow sensations on his tongue and throat.

The caress of the sun on his youthful skin as he strolled through the peddlers' stalls, shinny beads and flamboyant T-shirts beckoning the greenbacks in purses and wallets. People danced to the banging of snare drums and the strumming of a bass guitar.

Cold metal grazed his temple. The rancid gas fumes sickened him. A pulsing headache increased by the second. Insects ate at his insides as fists and feet bruised and battered his twin. Just as Cody wondered if Zack had shattered like a china doll, he rose to his feet. Those fingertips so close only to disappear in an instant as the door shut on his escape and into darkness he went.

_Why was I so stupid to pay attention to the van? Why couldn't I just walk away? I had to know what was going on, didn't I?_

_Oh really?_ a part of his mind said. _Are you sure there wasn't something involved?_

Cody pondered the question, but his mind beat him to it and gave the answer.

_Zack would have known to stay away. I mean, seriously… boxes with small white bags in them? Duh, Zack would have turned around on a dime and called the cops, or at least avoided the area. How could you be so stupid? Your brother is so much smarter than it comes to life outside of books._

Cody was shocked at his mind's veracity.

_You're just the bookworm. Always so confident of your abilities, but you have no abilities outside a classroom or a science lab. Look where my brains got you…_

_All those yoga poses did crap for you in a tight spot. You should have done a little more work with the weights…Oops, too late now._

His mind laughed at the him, its cacophony stabbing to his very core.

_Let's not get started on girls. I mean, Zack gets all the dates he wants, while you're lucky to get one in a year._

Cody fought back. _Yeah well, Zack can't hold down a relationship._ Cody almost teared up as he insulted his brother trying to defend himself.

_You think that matters in this day and age? People end relationships at the drop of a hat. With the internet and the cell phones and the texting, we've become separated, only truly caring about ourselves._

_Wait a second, I did have a relationship with Bailey._

_But it didn't last, did it? Life's been really bad to you. Why would that change now? This could be the last step, or it could be the beginning of something worse…_

Cody's gaze wandered to the hanging light above him. A fly following the beam as it swung in the air, its shadow crossing the captive's face, matching the growing melancholy inside him.

_That fly has more freedom than you do now. Heck, it may die tomorrow, but you don't know if you will live to see tomorrow…Oh wait, if you die that means I die. Well, that would suck for both of us, now wouldn't it?_

His mind noticed the curiosity in his public persona about before and decided to take advantage of it.

_Let's take a stroll down memory lane, shall we? First things first. You want to know how it could get worse. Here's the key. Remember…_

Cody trembled inside as the power of his mind crippled him.

His memory replayed every detail since the beginning.

_Wait?… that woman and the child…why were they here? Why are you making me remember them?_

Cody's bladder almost gave out as he realized the vile possibility.

_How could anyone use people like that?_ Cody's mind smiled at the revulsion and fear. _…What about me?_

_You asked for it_, his mind answered.

Cody Martin.

His life dreams stopped at the sound of "Sold!" and the exchange of a few thousand dollars. No freedom to play or learn. Life scheduled to the second.

The nerdy twin curled up into a ball, wrapping the blanket around him, feeling more like a five-year-old instead of the young adult he was.

Imagine, a prospective Ivy League student hearing "Tick Tick" in his mind as a manual laborer. Darkness veiling his presence as he digs for minerals in a shaft, or his skin peeling as an agricultural worker toiling from dawn to dusk, his hands blackened from soil and his back permanently bent.

A bottomless pit to be dug by the young man, fuelled by his brain's unrelenting progression.

Mind, body, and soul completely frozen by the defilement. Twin stars fading from being someone's sensual toy by touch or the red blinking light. Modesty a shredded past. Screams and moans fill the air. Each act breaking a piece of himself off every time until not even a ghost remains. Each tear a fantasy crashing before takeoff.

Cody's mind resurfaced from the abyss. His whole body shook, the cot vibrating.

_Oh, I am being too evil to you. Allowing you to see how disgusting the human race can be towards each other. All those urges. The need to eat or drink or love. But for some, the need to cause fear and their psychosis twists them to cause pain. Even to a child._

_Here's a respite. Enjoy._

A candle glowed in the blackness. Blackness turned to gray as the flame flickered, its will strong. A singular voice accompanied it. Sound waves gripped his heart and warmed the blood inside, life reinforced. Melodies chased the monstrous nightmares from his heart. Her hugs created a safe haven.

His heart slowed as the memory of familiar strumming of the nickel-plated strings bounced off the windows in his mind. The musical notes and the aftershave scents of a warmer past in a perfect house and a white picket fence. The dog pile wrestling, soccer in the house, accidently breaking the occasional lamp, moments of bonding that all seemed too few and too short.

Cody's hand clenched.

_Now back to the main event_, the darkness announced to the crowd watching the torture of Cody Martin by his own brain.

_The vacancy sign flashed at you. The scratchy roadside motel sheets on your skin. The clash of the bowling ball and the pins in your ears. The screeches for rent. The torture of sweat and the freeze. Fighting with flies in the empty cupboard and coins clinking in your pocket._

_The voice on the other end reminding you what was lost. The sound of practice blocked his voice. Cartoons poked through the small screen's broken lines. You try to hang on to what you have, but things continue to be crossed off or erased as you live your nomad life._

Tears balanced themselves on Cody's eyelids but refused to obey gravity and stayed there.

He punched back, fighting the darkness, trying to rebuild his defenses and came up with he thought was the perfect defense.

_Matching eyes met in his mind. Your ying and yang personalities often combined into gray. You often stayed awake at night to talk about dreams and uncertainties, sometimes lying in the same bed. You knew no matter what happened, he was your rock. The one you could trust the most._

A sad smile appeared on the boy's face as the mirage of green uniforms and the distinctive T on the breast pocket swelled to fill his vision.

_There was Maddie, your babysitter and pseudo big sister. Her sugary confections and conversation a regular part of your schedule. Her looks just an added bonus. Hard worker who had to deal with a crazy family life. She hoped for a better life and a little extra cash._

_There was London, the superficial hotel heiress with a big heart if she allowed allow herself to embrace it. Her presence allowed you to see how good your life was since you had a mother living with you and a father who actually called you. She had no mother in her life, and her father (as he was called) barely acknowledged her._

_And Marion Moseby, the dictator of the hotel and an uncle to you. Sort of. (Although you would never admit it to him or yourself.) The short man with a girlfriend. As a matter of fact, beyond the ulcers you caused him, you and he started to respect each other on intellectual grounds as you got older._

Memories of crawling through vents, running through the hallways, riding luggage carts, and just causing what damage hooligans could cause came the prisoner's mind easily.

_The scenes of the crime far behind you as you sprinted down the hallways caused by pranks you helped with. Or least tried halfheartedly to find a way out of. But you could not leave him behind. It was impossible. It would the universe without gravity. You helped each other with girls, homework, and new skateboard tricks. Granted you had your arguments, even low pranks on each other, but no walls ever stayed between you. Even when your teenage stubbornness did not allow you to admit how you cared for, or wanted to protect, each other got in the way._

His mind admired what Cody was doing. But decided it had had enough and figured everything out with the mental action and wiped everything with the perfect laser guided nuke to the middle of his human's defenses

_Now Zack's probably lying in that alley with a cracked skull because of what you did._

Cody's mind dipped into the abyss again.

_Its all your fault if he dies….Will you never see him again?... Or tell him you're sorry? Imagine that?_

Cody burrowed into the mattress as scenes of a funeral paraded by with his brother's body in a casket all dressed up to the nines. Everybody looking at the other twin. The other victim. The survivor.

The reason Zack died.

_What would Mommy think of you? You caused Zack to get hurt because of your stupid mistake. If he dies, will she ever forgive you? What about Daddy? What about sweet Maddie? London? Woody? Will they hate you?_

_What about Bailey?..._

_I think so…_

Tall shadows grew ever-larger, blocking all light, leaving the young man in darkness as fiery eyes and bony fingers clawing at his prone form.

Cody continued to bury himself as the rest of his world collapsed around him.

The door opened, its creaking unable to break through the prisoner's torment.

The ceiling light swung, unperturbed by this new presence.

The girl closed the door hard. As if to grab the boy's attention.

His head snapped up. Cheeks shiny with streaks. Red eyes. Bed head hair.

The girl's face stayed a perfect mask. It was not the first time she had seen such a face. No, not at all the first time.

"Well, you must be Cody?"

The other soul in the room brought his sleeve up to face and wiped. Then he squinted and nodded to her, his face a kabuki mask with red paint.

The girl walked over to the cot and sat down.

Cody moved to give space to this humanizing creature.

As she looked into the eyes of the young man beside her, she saw something.

_Is it hope? Maybe he thinks I am a sign._

She closed her green eyes and pushing her red bangs out of her face.

"I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Sam. I heard about what happened, and I wanted to meet you. It 's not everyday we pick up something your age."

She saw his eyes narrow. No change of expression. Just like all the others.

"As you've probably figured out, my father is one of the men involved."

Sam saw Cody's face become stone.

"I'm not involved in any of this personally, but as I am sure you know, children get dragged into stuff in which their parents are involved. If only because their living arrangements are affected by the new situation."

Cody only nodded. Sam sighed and continued.

"You must think I'm horrible, don't you? Being involved in all this?"

He gave a slight smirk.

"I think the situation is complicated, especially for a child."

"I'm fourteen." Sam's smart reply deleted the smile from Cody's face.

"Fine, even for a teenager, it would difficult to deal with." Sam smiled at Cody's comeback a few seconds later.

The redhead rose from the cot and walked around the room.

"Yes, it is hard to deal with. Sometimes almost impossible." She scanned the room. "At least they gave you decent accommodations."

A harsh laugh made her hair on her neck stand with acupuncture efficiency.

"Don't you mean they kept me alive? This place barely has the extreme basics." Cody pointed at the light bulb, the bathroom. "The wiring sucks and I don't even want to know about the plumbing," he finished with a snort. "Although I could be worse. Did you know they thought about killing me on the street? Then they decided to give me mercy and let me live…To do what? Sell me?"

Cody's outburst changed the atmosphere in the room. Sam thought about her response…

But before she could say anything, the door opened, the handle hitting the doorstop and bouncing back, the metal handle shaking from the impact as if in fear.

Sam's sniper eyes focused on Cody, whose face had turned pale, then flashed at the intruders.

"What are you doing? I told my dad I wanted to talk to him."

One of the group answered. "Please, Sam, don't get in the way. As a matter of fact, we need to talk to him as well."

"Just don't hurt him." The man paused on his way to Cody for a second.

"He'll come back in one piece." The man grabbed Cody and left the room, leaving Sam in his wake.

"I told you already for the third time," Cody insisted. "I'm not rich."

"Really?...Then how come you're a student on the _SS Tipton_? Last I heard it was cost $20,000-30,000 thousand dollar a year to live on that ship."

Cody rubbed his volcano of a headache, hoping vents wouldn't open up, allowing his brain to pour out.

"I work on the ship as a part time employee when I'm not going to school. My mom works as a hotel employee in Boston, Massachusetts. She used her Tipton employee discount and saved just enough for me to go."

Cody left something out, hoping the slight detail would be forgotten.

"Wait a moment?..." The guy known as the Boss cut across the silence.

Cody tried to not let it show, but he was a field mouse compared to the look on the Boss's hawkeyed face.

"Just you? Are you sure? The other guy, the one my men dealt with, looked strangely similar to you. As a matter, they thought you could be twins, but that means you lied to us just now, doesn't it?

Cody stayed silent, but a shark smile appeared on the Boss's face. The other closed the few feet between them. With his face inches away, Cody could see his individual pores. Smell his breath. Feel his eyes creating a cavern in Cody's head.

"How about you stop lying right now? Or things might start to go bad for you. Hm?"

Cody nodded, a puppet on strings.

"Alright then, so you have family, yes?"

An up and down movement to the Boss's question.

"What about your father? What does he do?"

Cody bit his lip and refused to talk.

"It must be a sore subject for you? Let me guess, he's not around much? Abandoned you, your brother and your mother?"

It was too much for Cody

"My parents are divorced, okay? For years, as a matter of fact. He's a musician, he's in a band."

"Really? How sad for you? The Boss laughed. "He must be really pathetic then."

Cody blasted out of his chair, only to be shoved down by the man he wanted to hurt so badly. He hopped back up, only to freeze he saw four other men behind the boss.

"Now calm down and let's continue. I guess we can avoid the topic of family if I want to survive. Now let's see, you have working-class parents…So, what we will do with you?"

Hands slipped to his pockets as the Boss circled Cody. He stopped and turned as his left hand pulled out of his pocket object. Even in this light, Cody recognized it instantly.

His cell phone. With everything going on, it had slipped his mind.

"Frankly I don't believe a word you're saying to us."

Cody started to sweat at the Boss's words.

"I hope you have someone you can call in order to prove all this for your sake."

"Yes, his name is Marion Moseby. He's the ship's manager. He used to work with my mother."

"Make it snappy. If I hear one mention of any police, its over."

Cody's head moved as if on a spring.

His hands moved like lightning, finding the manager's in the contacts list. _Please pick up_, he prayed.

"Hello, this is Marian Moseby, ship's manager, How may I help you?" The glorious tones of the man livened Cody's spirits for a second. Then he looked up at the Boss and spoke as quickly as he could.

"Mr. Moseby, it's Cody."

No sound on the other end. Hope faded as he feared Mr. Moseby might have had a fear of a heart attack until…

"Is it really you?"

"Yes, I'm alive and it's really long story. How's Zack?"

Before Moseby could answer, the phone was torn from Cody's hand and the Boss lurched away from Cody, Moseby's voice fading from earshot.

"Cody…Zack's okay but…

An unfamiliar voice grabbed his attention.

"What's going on? Put Cody back on the phone!"

"I don't think so."

Moseby's heartbeat started to race. His eyes started to move toward the ship's log and the passenger list on the computer. The tab behind it said "guest incidents."

"Listen and listen good, you have one week to pay three-and-a-half million dollars. Understand?

Moseby's mind swirled as he thought about the situation. But his focus forced his response.

"I don't understand."

"Well, let's make this crystal clear We'll call later for a time and place for a dropoff. If the demands are not met at the time and place, you will have one less passenger on your boat when you leave, is that clear?"

Moseby swallowed.

"Totally."

The line disconnected.

Moseby let the phone drop, without even realizing the dial tone was humming into the air.

_Oh dear…_

Moseby ran off to find the one person who needed to know first.

The sparse room was silent again, the simple smooth wood poking into Cody's skin where he lay on the cold cement floor,

his mind blank as he stared into space.

A footstep smacked the floor. His pupils contracted and he found himself face to face with a red head.

Sam.

"How did you…?"

"I snuck in, obviously…Are you alright?"

"I'm in one piece, no thanks to their attempts, threatened or otherwise."

Sam's grimaced.

"My dad really isn't

that bad. Its just the line of work he's in. Its makes him do things he wouldn't do otherwise."

Cody wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of Sam's response. But he didn't. He just shrugged.

Sam looked at him a second, then turned around, giving one last look to him and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Cody dove into his thoughts.

Her eyes stuck with him, their green color shining in front of him, tinged with an emotion.

Regret?... Betrayal?

Cody understood how it felt to believe parents were perfect, that they could do no wrong. He too had believed once upon a time but a little thing called a divorce changed all that. He envied Sam for her faith in her father.

But in this case, her reasoning was completely flawed.

_No…a person's choices are not affected by a job. Choices are affected by the person's own character. So her father is definitely a man driven by his choices._

_There's no way a "good" man would willingly walk into a profession like this and not know what's going on and not get some benefit out of it besides money. There's more to life than that. You have to enjoy it._

_I have to wonder if Sam wants to her father—or herself, for that matter—to be in this forever? What does she want to do with her life? Does she have dreams like me?_

_Wait?... what if there's a way to get him, or her, out of this? Would she take it? At the same time, could this idea release me as well?_

_All I can do is make sure she relates to me enough to the point where the connection between us can't be broken._

_But wait_, a part of his brain called out, _that's using her in a sense. Like Zack does with his girlfriends_

Cody rubbed his eyes as he considered the possibility.

Maybe… but it may be the only way I can get out of here alive, then so be it. And if I can get Sam out as well, just as well. This way I can bring hopefully two people out of this situation instead of just me.

Cody bit his lip and strove to fit together the pieces of his plan, weighing the odds of whether he could succeed.


	5. Chapter 5 by Aimme

**Chapter 5**

**by Aimme**

By noon on Wednesday, Zack had been looking for London for hours. And he wasn't usually one to stick something difficult out for fruition. In fact, if something didn't work out easily for him, he usually gave it up; it was a psychological complex stemming from the very basis of his identity—his state of being a twin, and being twinned with a brother like _Cody_, to boot. He gave up on things because there was no making something for _himself_; it would be forever lumped with or overshadowed by Cody and Cody's accomplishments, Cody's character, Cody's goals, Cody's life. Cody, Cody, Cody. (God, he missed his brother.)

However, he wasn't wandering around the ship looking for London with an ostensibly uncharacteristic tenacity, unusually apparent, to be pondering the multifariously byzantine nature of his identity and what it meant to be _him_, Zack Martin. He was looking for her because it was imperative he find a way to save his brother, and London held the key to the next step in that venture.

Because the next step involved a three-and-a-half million dollar ransom and one week to procure it or he'd never see his brother again.

That damning ultimatum echoed in his head and wrenched his heart with a frequency that made him feel sick. Now, it drove him on and on; he hadn't slept last night, he hadn't eaten this morning, he hadn't even thought about the dryness in his throat as being from thirst as well as from the horror and terrified nausea that ate away at him.

His brother was on a deadline, and never before had that word been so heavy. Because this time, the deadline spelled death for Cody; this time, _deadline_ meant a _flatline_ when it passed by. Deadline literally meant the_ dead_ part in the beginning of the word.

Zack closed his eyes, as if to block out the thoughts raging behind them. He pressed both index and middle fingers against his temples, as if the pressure could compel the thoughts between them into submission and coerce some slight form of peace throughout his unsettled mind.

There would be no such luck, but he tried to deflect his brain energy to figuring out where London was.

He'd checked the beauty parlor, the Lido Deck, One of a Kind, her cabin, all of her sundry hideouts. He'd asked around, but it was like she had vanished as well, and it was hard enough on him to be dealing with one missing person. He doubted anything had happened to her, but his tenuous emotions today left him aggravated at the least and aggrieved in some far corner of his sick heart most over the fact that he was having such a difficult time locating the heiress.

Truly, he wanted a high-dose painkiller and twenty hours of sleep, then a wake-up call from his brother about being late to class _again_ and _hadn't he promised he'd take Cody's shift today? Detention wouldn't accomplish that._

He tried her cell again, but it rang several times and then rolled over to voicemail. However, tired of listening to the same specialized_ Yay Me!_ voice tag, he simply hung up without leaving another message.

Really, how hard could it possibly be to locate London? The girl didn't know how to go anywhere without making a scene and making herself the centre of all attention in any given area. She couldn't help herself. It was only when she was distressed and in a hiding sort of mood, which was never good news, he knew personally, that she holed up somewhere and didn't attract attention to herself. Which meant, he would have an emotionally disturbed London on his hands when he did manage to find her.

And on a ship this size, it could literally be days before he found her if she so chose and that dratted ambsace was out to get him. But he didn't have days. He felt he didn't even have the two hours he'd already spent looking for her. And with them gone, so was his patience and that fraying hold on his mental balance, which had been slipping away from him since this whole mess began.

"For the love of baseball, London, _where—are— you_?" he growled to himself, running his hands through his hair and feeling his final threads of composure and forbearance snapping one fiber at a time.

"Right here." Her voice startled him, speaking calmly and unflappably from behind him. Yet he didn't miss, beneath the easy, almost mocking tone, the small quality skulking there.

He spun around. Sure enough, there she was, beside the ship's railing of Deck 10, looking at him as though, for all the world, it was any other day and the fact that he'd walked right past her while looking for her was about to bring down a slew of contumelies.

"You know, Zack," she began, all that ribbing of derision for his oversight ready to pounce out at him.

"London, I don't have time for that. I need a favor." He interrupted without a hint of shame.

"Nothing quite like getting right to the point, juice monkey." She grinned. "But, I don't do favors. You know that." She shrugged and turned away. "Oooh! Is that the fancy new yacht model they've come out with?" She pointed out to the harbor.

He didn't even bother to glance that direction. "I don't know, I don't care," he answered dismissively. All other important things considered, yachts were at the very bottom of the list, on par with bottom feeders and that mess on the vanity in his bathroom. Besides, what rich uppity-uppities around here could afford a top-of-the-line, fresh off the model-floor yacht?

It was all so irrelevant. He had more important things to consider than these incongruous thoughts.

"Well, fine then. Don't." She pouted, folding her arms. "I'm going elsewhere, to someone who_ does_ care. Someone more on my level; someone capable of meeting _my_ par." She turned to go, just like that, without a moment's hesitation when he told her he had a request.

But it was London, and he was Zack. And it didn't deter him or bother him. Not really…

"London!" he snapped at her. (Another fiber of that taut and frayed cord severed.)

…Okay, maybe it bothered him a little.

He needed that ransom money. He _needed_ help. He couldn't lose his brother. He _couldn't_.

She paused, her next step jerky with hesitation, not fluid. For one who usually moved so easily with such grace, the falter was blatant.

He seized the pause for the opportunity it afforded him. "I_ need_ your help."

He couldn't see her face, but he could see the brief grappling with a hesitancy he couldn't understand the roots of, but one he hoped would play out in his favor. The suspension of her departure manifested a tension in her shoulders he could easily see from where he stood, and when she spoke, the resolute, chipper tone had been wrestled aside by the revelation of that uncertainty giving her pause.

"Zack, I already told you, I don't do favors. I don't help people." She lifted her chin and continued walking away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my next installment of _Yay Me! starring London Tipton_"—he noted the usual cheery note that accompanied this title was not in her tone today,—"to get to and I can't be more than fashionably late, and I am_ never_ without tasteful fashion."

She hurried past a few people, ducking out of the thin crowd and into an empty hall. He didn't miss a beat; he took off doggedly after her, shoving the hall door back open as she let it swing to a close behind her and thus into his face as he followed after her retreat.

"_London_," he spat warningly, his patience a thin sludge of ice unfit for treading on. "You haven't even heard me out."

"Zackary, I _told_ you!" she answered without glancing back, flippant and dismissing him as easily and indifferently as if he were part of her expandable serving staff.

It was too much. It was the proverbial last straw.

"LONDON!" he roared, slamming the door behind him with enough force a detached part of his mind mused that it was a wonder the glass hadn't shattered with the impact.

She froze.

"You. Have not. Heard me out." He growled, hands fisting so tightly the stretching of the skin turned his flesh to a livid, agonized white.

"Martin," she bit off, "_I_. Do not. Help people. I _can not_ help you."

Barely restraining himself from smashing a hole in the wall beside him, heated red hazing over his vision, he trembled with a rage born from desperation, from a quiet and powerful and straining misery he couldn't cope with, a loss he could not deal with—that frantic and dangerous feeling he couldn't assimilate. But just who did she think she was? He _would not_ be denied; the stakes were too high for him to take this lying down, too high and too totaling to play nice.

The tenuous hold on his emotions slipped a little farther out of grasp, teetering out on a thin edge ready and willing to drop him without a moment's notice. Another fray snapped loose. "Just how the—the—the _hell_ do you know what I need?" After all, how else could she know she couldn't help him?

She didn't at first reply, just tilted her head to the side, as if to glance over her shoulder at him, only she didn't. Her downcast eyes were glued to the trim of the hallway.

"London, I need that money for the ransom," he inserted in the intervening silence.

She spun around, eyes flashing. "You can't have it!" she snapped. "You don't know what you're getting yourself involved in."

That was the wrong thing to say. To tell him no. To tell him he couldn't have what he needed. Telling him he couldn't have his brother back was a death-wish, because crossing him that way now was a reckless plunge into dangerous territory. She'd said he couldn't have the ransom money; she might as well have said he couldn't have Cody back, because the two were essentially one and the same in his mind.

Trembling, grasping at the straws of his fragmented control, he slammed his fists against his head, knuckles digging into his temples for a brief moment, because he wanted to hit her, he wanted to hit her _so bad_. Then, throwing his fists back to his sides, eyes flashing and darkened to a dangerous hue as they pierced her, a deadly demand sliced the air. "How _dare_ you." The dark hiss spoke volumes, a barely restrained ire roaring in the cutting timbre.

Her jaw locked tightly. "Zack, I—I can't help you. I _can't_."

"Yes, you can. You can, you just _won't_," he shot back. "I always knew you were selfish," he jabbed (_she had always been selfish, but she had always come through when it really mattered…_), "but I never really thought you were a greedy, heartless snob!"

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been so harsh. Any other time, and he wouldn't have spoken so carelessly, so recklessly. After all, he knew better than to say things like that and mean it. Because, this time, when he said them, they were the worst combination of words and tone, so that the insult drove home into some of London's deepest held and most carefully kept insecurities and sensitivities.

They had grown close, and he knew things about London nobody else knew. And likewise, she knew things about him nobody else really knew, not even Maya, and that _included_ Cody. He and London identified with each other, and when alone, they could be real with each other.

London was like the sister he'd never had (and teased his brother about never _wanting_). However, with Cody's life hanging in the balance, the pull of flesh and blood on his heart won out over the sway of friendship.

He'd never _really_ want to hurt London. And he'd never have done so, under normal circumstances and any other time…but this moment was neither of those.

Hurt flashed across her face, and he told himself he should feel more ashamed than he did, but he was too angry, too terrified for his brother, and too overwrought with the sheer stress and turmoil of the past seventy-two hours to retract his words and make amends. She'd crossed a line, so he'd cross them right back.

A mixed look settled over London's face—anger, hurt, pity, understanding—but her hard eyes bore into Zack, staring him down for the transgression committed. "You don't mean that," she hissed. "Take it back."

"No."

Her face hardened more, closing off. "Last chance, Zackary. _Take it back_."

Zackary again, huh? She was in a snit today, wasn't she? Even before he'd taken a jab at her, she'd been snippy. If he hadn't been so focused on their argument, he might've wondered why she was in such a sharp-tongued, curt mood.

But he couldn't be bothered to wonder about _her_ and _her_ feelings; that taut, fraying cord was unraveling quickly now, and his grip was slipping further and further.

"_You. First,_" he snarled. After all, she was the one to commit the first offence; she should make the first restitution. She had barreled past that taboo boundary without apology, without compunction, and he was not in a gracious mood.

"And for just what, do you suppose, should I go first for?" She snapped this derisively, but in her frown mingled both anger and callous confusion.

"I_ need_ that money." How could he hope to stress this enough? And how could she be so clueless, so indifferent? She had to care for Cody too, right? God, she'd been with them _forever_. His brother was annoying and a know-it-all carping prig, but it was _Cody_; everything else was a moot point at this juncture, because, everything else aside, what it all came down to is that it was _Cody_ and he_ couldn't_ lose him. He couldn't.

"And I've told you, Zack. You don't know what you're getting yourself into." This wasn't as snappy as before, but rampant worry still steeled her tone into a warning voice cautioning him against refuting it. "You don't know what people like them can do."

He stared at her, silent for a moment, watching, reading, scrutinizing her and weighing this announcement. She was right, of course; he didn't know detail by detail what these people were capable of, but he knew enough about depravity and enough about criminals to know that lowlifes like them were capable of no small cruelty. And his brother was in the midst of it.

And ultimately, that was the only aspect of this situation he cared about. Nothing else mattered, because only Cody mattered; he didn't care about anything these men were capable of, except what they were capable of doing to his twin.

For her part, London was scared; but he wasn't exactly _not_ afraid, either. Frankly, he was terrified witless.

"London," he began, slowly, searching for the words, for his argument. "You…you're right, I don't know, not intimately. But what I do know, is that Cody'll be intimately acquainted with whatever they are capable of because he is with them. And that is _worse_. He's stuck with that lowlife scum."

London shook her head; once more, outright refusing his case. "Zack, you're too close to this." She intoned firmly, and though she may have meant well, it only stirred his irritability.

That edge he was out on wobbled, that cord giving just a little bit more. "You bet I am!" he shouted before she could continue, but though his control had been snapping steadily, this barely constrained outburst was toeing the line. "That's my _brother_, London. Scratch that. That's _my twin_. I'm closer to this than anybody, and I have more to lose than _any_ of you!" It may have been another jab, insinuating she wasn't helping because she didn't care enough about Cody to feel she would be losing anything, insinuating the authorities weren't doing everything they could because they weren't personally invested in the case and thus they wouldn't be out anything if Cody was never returned to his family; but more prominently, and thus most importantly, it was his heart bleeding through, because losing his brother would be a fate worse than death for him.

"The stakes are higher for me than they are for you, and I will do _anything _to not lose." His tone was quieter now, but with such a deathly serious note that it was hardened to a firm quality which brokered neither refusal of its magnitude nor dismissal of its grave nature.

"You've got to stay out of it." London's voice matched his, but beneath the gravity of their discussion evident in her tone, a desperation ran wild, even if he didn't recognize the plea beginning to slip into her words. "Let the authorities do their jobs, Zack, let them handle this. They're trained professionals. And they know the criminal climate here. We're in unfamiliar territory, Zack. This isn't our place. We can't get involved; we've got to stay out."

When did a mutual plural come into the equation? He eyed her silently for a moment, recognizing the truth and well-founded caution in her words, but he didn't want to accept that. As already stated, he was too close to this, and he couldn't just sit idly by.

On one hand, it may have seemed uncharacteristic of him to be unable to let others do all the work for him. But on the other hand, he had different fingers, and thus an entirely different scenario to contend with: his brother's life was on the line. He'd been called plenty of things—lazy, useless, an idler, an idiot, etc. —and all were essentially the same insult, and all had followed him around for years, but none of them applied now. None of them could belong to his name anymore. Because there was this tight, burning knot in his stomach that drove him on and he could find no rest—so how in the world could he be a bystander? There was no peace, and he had to do _something_. He couldn't stand the inactivity.

Maybe he wasn't the same person he had been a week ago; maybe he never would be. That didn't matter. What did, though, was that he would certainly be indelibly, undeniably _changed_, different if this story didn't end happily for him. If he lost his brother… he'd absolutely lose it.

For all that Cody annoyed him and drove him crazy, for all that he was so caustic and rude to Cody, he had never truly wanted his brother to disappear. He never truly liked being without him. For starters, being without Cody for a week—a _week_—while his brother was at math camp had driven him up the nearest proverbial wall, down the other side, and back up again for every waking moment and every restless snatch of sleep (which had been his only reprieve, however scant and troubled it had been) he had had to endure during that difficult time. To be without his brother for _the rest of his life_…it terrified him. It devastated him. It tore him apart.

"I get what you're saying, London, I do. But…" His voice suddenly choked off at the next words.

Because, being without his brother for the rest of his life…it made him come undone.

The edge dropped out from beneath him, the control he had on his emotions breaking completely, the last fibers snapping free.

"But I can't…I can't just leave him like that." And now he's crying. He's crying and he never cries, because he stopped doing that a long time ago. Maya hadn't ever seen a single tear in his eyes, for example. But this is his brother, and he couldn't leave him and he couldn't lose him. He missed him too much, and it's driving him crazy; he hurt too much, and nothing changed that; he's driving himself ragged with all this, but it's not helping. Nothing helped.

And he's sinking down on to a bench, and he's crying and running his hands through his hair, and he couldn't _think_. He could barely _breathe_. He couldn't operate past the devastation swelling in his chest, feeding off the desperate misery eating away at his heart.

If London's dismissal had been the proverbial last straw, this was the world crashing down on the broken back of his shattered control and burying him six feet under all the despair he'd been fighting.

He bent his head down low and he curled in on himself. And as he placed his elbows on his knees, he clenched his hands into a tight, white-knuckled grip in his hair, crying harder than he'd let himself do in a long time. Since the first night spent away from his father, since that night when he'd been taken away from every scrap of security he had ever known.

He'd lost his father. His mother had betrayed him. His parents had torn his world to pieces. And all throughout it, all he'd had was Cody. Any constant he'd ever had since had been Cody, and now that was being torn from him, too.

"I can't do it, London. I can't leave him like that." The burning sobs were, somehow, cooling the heat of his anger, but his voice was still resolved even beneath the wobbling and cracking as he cried. He hated crying, but finally giving vent to all the pent-up turmoil and anxiety that had been haunting him was ultimately very relieving.

"I'm sorry, Zack," she whispered, and he looked up at her, his shoulders jerking with a sob, to see her face screwed up as she fought her own tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I…I can't…" he managed weakly, brokenly.

London shook her head vehemently at him; then she was rushing over to him, collapsing on the bench beside him and flinging her arms around him in a fierce hug. She, too, was crying; not a pathetic, woe-is-me-pity-me cry, but hard _sobbing_, the kind that's stuff of heartbreak and sheer, unprecedented misery.

As they held each other and cried, Zack forgot about all else. At that moment, nothing computed in his brain and nothing existed past the pain that roared inside of him. All the stress, unrest, and the agonizing disorder inside of him slowly sluiced from his system, and he didn't know how long he sobbed into London's shoulder, nor could he bring himself to particularly care, for the expunging of so much he had bottled up was needed and he was lost in it.

Finally, his tears had calmed to quiet hiccups and the occasional soft sob. He clung to London and slowly felt all the strain and tension drain out of him and for the first time in days, he relaxed, actually _relaxed_, for whatever brief amount of time it was so.

"I can't do it. I can't." He whispered.

London nodded. "I know. I know."

He shook his head, as if refuting the acknowledgment, or perhaps just the soothing quality embedded behind the words. "No. I mean I really _can't_. I can't leave him like that. I can't _lose_ him. If I lose him, I… if I do, I'd…" He scrambled for words, but he couldn't articulate anything. He just ended up emphatically repeating, "I can't do it, London, I can't."

"I'm sorry, Zack, I'm sorry." Her fingers loosened and then re-fisted in his shirt as she, too, clung to him. "I don't want to lose anyone else. Zack, please…I don't want to lose anyone else."

Her words spoke volumes, and just as he'd finally broken, they'd finally reached the true cause of her refusal to help, to let him have the ransom money. She missed Cody, too; she was raw from the loss, in many ways like he himself was. And she was so worried, so scared, she was going to lose more of those she cared about, that she was going to lose _him_, too, to this mess.

So he loosened his grip and pulled back, putting his hands on her shoulders and bracing her. Meeting her gaze squarely, he said categorically, unequivocally, "Then let's not lose _anyone_."

She stared at him silently, searching his gaze for any reservations, but she could find no guile and no misgivings. Just pure, unswerving determination. The purposed sentiment steeled his blues to a hard glint, an unquestionable slate that was definitive: he would not take no for an answer, and he would stop at nothing to do what he had to do.

Who was she to stand in his way? Who was she to condemn Cody and damn Zack to having to live with that fate? She was London Tipton, but she had no place doing so. First and foremost, she knew she could not be responsible for Cody's death and Zack's bereavement. She didn't want to lose her friends, and the pull of her love for them on her heart was beginning to win out over her sensibleness in the situation.

So, despite her better judgment, she found herself caving. She was, after all, a caring person at heart.

Releasing a shaky breath, the fight left her; her shoulders dropped in defeat as she gave an acquiescent nod. "Alright, Zack. Alright." She capitulated softly, letting him know he'd won.

He pulled back further, releasing her, and strained a smile, but it was tainted by the heartache still evident in his eyes and the tearstains on his face. "Thank you, London."

She nodded absently as she stood, reaching for her cell phone. So it _had_ been on her, and since she didn't have to turn it on, she must have been ignoring his calls. That was more proof which confirmed his growing suspicions—she had been _avoiding_ him.

He swiped at his face as she speed-dialled her father; he let out a shaky breath of his own, a small measure of relief stealing over him for a brief moment, but he was still tense, on pins and needles, because, although he had won London to his cause, there was Mr. Tipton to contend with now and the business giant was an entirely different kettle of fish—and quite a one to be reckoned with, to boot.

So he perched on the edge of his seat, waiting with a numbing sense of dread.

"Daddy? I need three-and-a-half million transferred to my bank account pronto!"

"London! Ah, there you…oh, Zack." Mr. Moseby was coming down the hall from the opposite direction they had originally entered, intent upon his own task: which had also been to find London and talk to her about the ransom, though the manager had forewarned Zack, with a heavy doubt, that it would be no mean feat to persuade London. Zack hadn't wanted to listen, and, of course, he was nowhere near giving up then…as he wasn't now.

"Why? I told you Cody's been kidnapped. They want a ransom for him!"

But now, it was a matter that had completely escaped Zack's hands. If London couldn't sway her father, then this had all been for naught. There was no recourse, no alternative. It was lights out for Cody, wasn't it? And to say Zack was on edge as he sat awaiting that verdict—which would either be a blessing or would be a condemning sentence—was an understatement. He was practically about to be sick.

He looked up at the ship manager, giving a brief nod to acknowledge the address as Moseby slowed to a halt from his quick clip down the hall.

Moseby only had to take one look at the ill at ease edge on Zack's face, London on her phone, and having only these elements to work off of was enough to know what was going on. Hearing the one-sided conversation was a big clue, too. London was being very direct.

For London's part, this was no mean feat to stand up to her daddy. Her father was a man who would sooner teach people not to cross him than learn how to negotiate, and thus he was a very hard man to reason with, a man who prided himself on just how _un_-agreeable he could be.

"Londy, I fail to recognize how that has anything to do with us." Her daddy was so stubborn, so mean. And he was insulting and closed off without giving any argument a chance.

"Because, Daddy, it's our fault!" She started, but he interrupted before she could elaborate.

"And how is that?"

Remembering that virtue known as patience, she inhaled deeply and with a concerted, controlled effort forged ahead with her elaboration now. "We're Tiptons, and when they found out Cody is associated with us, they brought a ransom into the equation. If we don't pay, Cody dies." Remarkably, she managed to keep herself together on those two horrible words.

"London, I've warned you about this kind of thing. We don't get close to people. We cannot get involved; it is not our business."

"Yes, it is. It's our business!" London refuted sharply, her patience with her father quickly waning. The man just didn't understand, and he certainly didn't really know her. He might be able to distance himself from people and disregard the lives of others, but she couldn't do it. She just couldn't. It wasn't in her.

"Must I take you out of there? If you don't distance yourself, I will take measures to ensure you do." Wilfred's voice had steeled. In his defense, he was worried for his daughter, but London doubted he knew what was best for her. He knew her face, her name, but did he know who she was?

"It's too late for that, Daddy." She wouldn't be treated like a child, and she wouldn't be told to abandon the family who had been a real one to her.

"London, you cannot help these shipmates of yours. You will not. They are just people, and people for us are expendable. There are bigger issues at work, and next to them—"

"How _dare_ you!" She snapped, not a hiss as Zack's had been, but with the same deathly incredulity that had been in the older twin's tone.

"London, I will have Captain whatever-his-face leave Jamaica altogether if you do not—"

"His name is Lunceford, Daddy, and you can't stop me from helping my friends. I'll just get off the ship right now with my family and there's nothing you can do about that." Because she knew, ultimately, even Mr. Moseby would be on her side—even if it cost him his job—and if the manager was, then there was no one on the ship to order her detention.

"London, _I_ am your family—"

"_Daddy_!"

Her tone was enough to communicate she was serious and her father couldn't win this one. That she wouldn't be deterred or convinced to do otherwise.

The line grew silent for several moments; only London's quiet fuming and her father's contemplative heavier breath echoed in the receivers. Then, at last, "Fine. We will pay the ransom for this Brody fellow."

"Cody, Daddy." She corrected with the calm exasperation of one practicing a routine.

"Whatever." Her father dismissed indifferently, unfazed. "On one condition, London._ You stay on the ship_, where you are safe."

She briefly contemplated if her father was going to double-cross her, by getting her to comply and then telling the captain to leave instead of paying the ransom as agreed. But it was a risk she would have to take, and she'd put precautions in place to ward against such a betrayal coming to fruition.

"This is a dangerous situation. Getting involved with criminals is never something done lightly, and the criminal climate there is different than our own. Bear that in mind. London, we have no jurisdiction. You must be careful. Stay on the ship." Her father's worry seemed genuine, and knowing she had no other choice, she found herself complying.

"Yes, Daddy. I will."

"Good. Now I'll see you next week in Peru."

"Uh-huh," she started doubtfully, then caught herself and answered cheerfully with a big (forced) grin, "Alright, Daddy! See you then! Bye!" Then she hung up before he could answer and released a heavy breath. That had not been easy, and now she was tense as well as stressed and worried for Cody. She needed a massage and pronto.

But first, priorities.

She turned to face the other two waiting behind her, Moseby's expectant gaze and Zack's apprehensive aura. She met Zack's gaze and the older twin stared back, searching her eyes for an answer with a desperation that made her hurt worse. At least she could give him some scrap of good news…

"He said yes."

The reaction was instant, and while Moseby sighed with relief, it was Zack's reaction that was the more prominent. She could visibly see the tension flee him, like a flood rushing out when a dam breaks.

For Zack, the announcement was the last block between him and relaxing. Now, with the promising words hanging in the air, relief swept through him, and in the wake of the way he felt purged after his hard cry, all the pressure and the strain drained out of him and he slumped into his seat, suddenly feeling incredibly tired and empty.

"He only had one condition," London continued, "and that is that I stay on the ship."

Zack nodded absently, agreed with this stipulation, but his thoughts were elsewhere. And_ elsewhere_ as in his thoughts were scattered and muddled; he couldn't string a proper thought together now, as, in the wake of his relief, the past several days began to catch up with him.

"Good, London." Moseby answered, clearly relieved with this course of action as well.

Zack wasn't listening anymore; his head was pounding from having cried, and his ears felt awash with muted sounds as though he were underwater. In fact, he didn't quite feel right. It was the stress of the last few days catching up to him, and the way he had been driven restlessly on since that call about the ransom yesterday.

He tried to concentrate, tried to focus. When he stood, intending to speak with Mr. Moseby about all these new developments, vertigo seized him. His vision slanted sharply out of focus, the world spinning, and he felt weak, so weak…

"Zack!" the voice must have shouted his name, but it sounded muted, slowed, and far away, as though coming to him from across a great distance and through many leagues of water, and he was resting at the sandy bottom with a million tons of water weight crushing down on him…

No, wait. That was the floor. And it was carpet bristles underneath him, not sand. And his ears were swimming with vertigo, not water.

He felt light-headed, yet his head also felt far too heavy, too heavy to lift. Someone's hands were on his shoulders, and he wished they'd stop jostling him. He felt sick enough already; in fact, he rather suspected he would be sick.

Whoever was touching him lifted him into a sitting position, but the movement didn't settle well on him. Head spinning, vision blurred, he suddenly found himself being sick right there on the carpet. Since he hadn't eaten since whatever he had nibbled on yesterday at lunch, harsh stomach acids burned his throat as he spit the bile on to the floor.

"Zack!" A hand worriedly touched his brow, and the touch felt refreshingly cool against his skin.

"I'm fine," he whispered hoarsely, wearily sitting back and was silently thankful for the arm around his shoulders supporting him.

"You're flushed and throwing up, Zack. You are unwell." Mr. Moseby quietly refuted him, and he suddenly equated the hands supporting him with the manager's voice, and thus the manager's person.

He managed a sigh in response.

"When did you last eat?" Moseby demanded, carefully helping the unsteady teen to his feet.

Zack searched his memory, his foggy head refusing to clear. "Yesterday…lunch…" he answered slowly as the details surfaced.

"You ate half a bowl of soup," Moseby countered. "Have you eaten nothing else since then?"

Frowning at the concern in the older man's voice, the older twin pushed away from his support and backed up. "Moseby—" he started, but was unable to finish due to a bout of vertigo. He closed his eyes against the dizzy rush and tried to not let his legs give out from beneath him again.

"Have you at least had anything to drink?" London pressed, flanking his other side and placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her blankly and her frown grew more pronounced.

"Zack, not taking care of yourself isn't going to help get Cody back," Moseby admonished sternly.

"Let me guess, you didn't sleep last night either?" London prodded sarcastically, but when she didn't receive a response, her expression darkened. "Really, Zack. What good will you be to Cody if you collapse and end up back in the hospital because you aren't sleeping, drinking, or eating?"

"That's it, Zackary," Moseby announced in his fatherly, in-charge voice. "You're to rest this afternoon. The doctor told you to take it easy./"

"But, Mr. Moseby—" he started protesting. Rest? What a _ludicrous_ notion! He couldn't rest…sleeping didn't help. If he wasn't awake and haunted by all this, then he was sleeping and tortured with dreams and nightmares and fears. Why should he rest when his brother's fate hung in the balance?

"Zippit," Moseby cut him off. "No buts. There's nothing you need or can do at this juncture. For now, you will rest. Your blood sugar level is low, you are dehydrated, and you are still recovering from a concussion. London will help you back to your cabin, while I find someone to clean up this mess. When I have, I will drop by your cabin. If you are up to it, we can discuss all of this and come up with a plan of action. But _you_, sir, will rest."

And he knew there was no arguing with the manager. He felt too weak and drained to do so anyway.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been left alone, but Cody was beyond bored. After all, there was only so many times one could count the stains on the ceiling and contemplate the square root of that number or factor in the number of cracks in the floor and ceiling as well and find the common denominator or median of the various numbers.

With nothing to do, he was doing an exorbitant amount of thinking about his family and his life and anything to keep his mind occupied. Mostly, he thought about his mother, wondered if she knew he was missing, how worried she must be; just as often, he thought of his brother, and wondered how Zack was coping. Oh, he knew his brother cared about him…but how upset was Zack really? He couldn't really picture his unflappable, aloof brother frantic.

As he ruminated on these questions, he heard the clank of the door unlocking and the handle turning. He was sitting on the floor, resting his head against the wall, but when he heard the noise, he wearily lifted his head and stretched the stiffness out of his neck.

He glanced up as Sam entered, familiar frizzy curls and lopsided grin first sight of a friendly face in hours. She carried a bowl of what he presumed was soup, as he could not see from his seat on the floor, and a cup of what he knew would be water. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and he realized it'd been too long since last he ate.

"Hey, Cody," she offered him a small smile, absently tossing her hair out of her face as she nudged the door closed with her foot.

"Sam," he greeted back, wincing at his dry throat. It was hot in here and the room was so dry. Still, he tried to smile back, and shake loose the dark, miserable thoughts.

Sam winced. "Ooh. You don't sound so good, you sound like—"

"I'm a prisoner in a room without proper ventilation or the means to keep myself hydrated, awaiting my fate that's in the hands of traffickers." He finished with grim humor.

She gave a short, wry laugh. "And your humor is about as dry as the air in here."

"_Hello_," he emphasized dryly, brows rising slightly, glancing around as if viewing the air itself.

She laughed again. "Well, how about a drink then?"

"I'd love one." He reached out a hand for the cup as she came over to sink down beside him. He drank deeply, water as he had known, and reached the bottom wishing there were three or four more cupfuls for him to down.

"Food." She offered, holding the bowl up as he set the cup down with an unsatisfied sigh.

"Anything at this point." He took the bowl and began eating, ignoring the metallic taste that told him it was something out of a can. At this point, he knew better than to be his usual picky-eater self.

As he ate, Sam leaned back against the wall and absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger, covertly eyeing him. He was intent on the food, though how he managed to be so hungry at a time like this, and considering he couldn't do more than sit around and be chased to insanity by boredom, she couldn't fathom. It must just be one of his quirks… she smiled.

So she'd developed a bit of a crush on the captive. He was generally a nice sort, he'd treated her fairly and kindly, which was less than she could say for many people she had run into in this business in which her father carried on, and he was so different than everything else she'd ever known. Like a taste of freedom or a world outside of the only one she knew, the one she had grown up in knowing there must be more beyond…

She shook herself lightly, trying to dispel these thoughts.

"So…" Sam began softly.

Cody glanced up at her and quirked a brow. "Yes?"

"Er…" she continued intelligently. _Great, now you sound like an idiot!_ "It must get pretty boring in here." She gestured around the room as she sought desperately to come up with _something_ to talk about. She wanted Cody to like her and she wanted him to share something, anything about himself. She'd already tipped off a little bit of her hand when she came in and spoke to him about her father and about her life in general.

"It does." Cody answered as he spooned the last of his soup into his mouth.

"How do you fill the hours?" Sam asked, straining a smile at him.

Cody eyed her; his eyebrows drew together to form a slight furrow above the bridge of his nose. "With the only thing I can do. Think."

She nodded. "Sounds like fun," she teased, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Oh it is." Cody retorted. "Loads. Next time you have a moment, just try it out. Long stretches are the really good ones, of course."

Sam laughed. "Please. You're so full of it, Codes."

The younger twin gave a soft start, startle racing through his eyes. No one had called him "Codes" in _years_, and the last person who had called him that was his brother…man, he really missed his brother. He missed his friends and the boat; Mr. Moseby and Ms. Tutweiller; his bed and clean clothes; nutritious food and decent water; textbooks and school; routine and even his _job_…but most of all, he missed his twin.

Suddenly, he found that Sam's usage of the old, long-unused nickname…hurt. It _hurt_ like the dickens and then some. It hit too close to home and brought him so much strife—from missing his brother, for the reminder it brought to him of Zack, and also from the distance between them, for they had been drifting apart as they grew up, and Zack hadn't called him "Codes" in what suddenly occurred to him as far too long.

And he hated it.

"Don't…don't call me that," he whispered hoarsely, but emphatically. Abruptly, he felt no one had the right to call him that except his brother, even if Zack hadn't called him that in far, _far_ too long. Sweet textbooks, how long had they been drifting apart? The time had never occurred to him, that they hadn't been close in years, but all of a sudden, the years and the distance bowled him over and he ached with the loss, a loss he had never realized he'd been carrying around all this time.

Funny, how chaos and tragedies and disaster can bring realizations like that to the forefront. It was almost tragicomic.

Except that it hurt more than it was humorous. Fancy that.

Sam looked startled at his outburst and withdrew slightly. "I…I'm sorry, Cody," she stuttered out. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Great, now he felt like a slug, too, on top of all the miserable, dejected hurt broiling around in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. Scientifically speaking, the blood-pumping organ was still there and it hadn't changed, but right now it felt like it had been replaced by a tight knot of pain instead.

"No, Sam. _I_ am sorry. It's just…" he hesitated, that knot of pain twisting and wrenching slightly at the thoughts that overloaded his mind; a lump suddenly formed in his throat. He forged past that, trying to quash down the heartache threatening to quite unexpectedly make him come unglued. That would not do right now. "My…my b-brother used to call me that."

There, he gave her an explanation, since he had owed her one, and he had managed it without too much difficulty, too much stuttering. He blinked rapidly and dropped his eyes, for there were tears in them and he just didn't know about actually letting himself cry right now.

"Do you…do you miss him terribly?" Sam asked softly.

Ha! wasn't that putting it lightly? Oh, if only she had any _idea_… "Quite," he answered quietly, swallowing hard.

"Well…maybe you will see him again soon," she offered with a helpless, slight shrug.

Cody looked up, his brows drawing together as he frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

Sam shifted and glanced around, as though to see if anyone were eavesdropping, but no one else was in the room and the door was shut. Then she leaned in closer and whispered, as though afraid of getting caught divulging sensitive information, "They're going to ransom you."

"_What_?" It was not that what she said didn't make sense; it was that it caught him off guard and he found the suddenness and unexpectedness of it caused him some disbelief. They were…_ransoming_ him? Since when and why? What would be the significance or point of…oh. Because he was friends with London Tipton. They figured they could get something more for the cost of his life than if they sold him into slavery to some irking, unprincipled lowlife.

It certainly explained a few things. But that did not make reality any more comforting.

If nothing else, it bothered him that in these people's minds, his life was so worthless it could have a price tag put to it and he could be bartered for and haggled over for_ paper_ and ultimately _meaningless_ currency when one considers that life is _priceless_.

He kind of had to wonder if people in this business, both the wretched seller and the revolting consumer, would quickly change their tune if it was _their_ own life being degraded thus.

Funny how _that_ worked.

"Yeah…" Sam shifted uncomfortably, looking a little unsettled. "Um…Cody?"

"Yes?" he prompted, turning his attention back to their discussion.

Sam fiddled around with her shirt for a moment. "Your brother…is he…would he…he's the kind of person who will stop at nothing to get you back, yes?"

Cody leaned back against the wall, considering his answer. Something was eating at Sam and he didn't want to rush his response, especially considering the miserable thoughts and feelings that had been keeping him company all these long hours. And even somewhat during their conversation.

"Yes," he finally answered. "Yes, he would. Zack can be very…determined. When he wants to. And he always comes through when you _really_ need him." _And Zack, I_ really_ need you now… This is bigger than anything before, I know, but please don't fail me, buddy._

Sam nodded, looking a little bit relieved. "That's good. Then he'll come by that money no matter what he has to do for it."

"Yes," Cody answered quickly this time. After all, he had to hold to that. He'd go mad without that thread of hope to cling to.

The girl looked even more relieved with this response. "Excellent, then," she said softly.

Cody frowned. "Why?" he asked, clearly referring to her reactions.

"Cody, it's a _ransom_. Why do you think?" she retorted.

He pondered over this, but the only possibilities which came to mind unsettled him and did not make him feel any better. "What happens if the ransom is not paid?" he asked quietly.

Sam shifted around uncomfortably, disturbed.

"Sam?" he pressed. "What happens?" He wanted a confirmation or a denial of what he was thinking…

"The stipulations I heard were that if the ransom is not paid in time…it's…lights out for you." She whispered these last words so quietly he almost missed them, but hear them, he did.

His heart sank as it exploded with sheer fear and disbelief and pain. _No, no, no…_ He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to consider it. Death? Why death? It terrified him.

_Zack wouldn't be afraid of death_, that little voice of inadequacy taunted him. He tried to shake it off, but he knew the retort._ Zack wouldn't even be here. Zack knew better._

Which is why he had to take a page from Zack's book. Zack always knew how to find a way around any situation. Always knew how to exploit his resources to get whatever he needed or wanted.

So Cody, mind already made up and plan already laid out in his mind, leaned closer to Sam and whispered, "That's why I'm not just going to sit around, waiting on everyone else to decide my fate. I'm going to find a way out of here."

Sam stared at him, startled and wide-eyed. "What? How?"

"Sam, I have to get out of here," he began his explanation slowly. He felt he could reveal a little bit of his plan, because if she wasn't on his side, anyway, it was history. He was history. Well, not textbook history, as he hadn't accomplished anything worth note in that department just yet, but rather…never mind. "I have plans; I have a future. I have a family. Sam, you _have_ to help me."

She quickly pulled back, vehemently shaking her head. "No, Cody, no. I can't. My father—"

"Your father doesn't have to know. Please, Sam, when it is time, promise me you won't give my escape away."

She sat back, pondering this. Could she do it? Could she cross her father? Did this young man deserve to die simply because her father was in an unsavory business and she was afraid of standing up to him? Could she live the rest of her life with his life on her head along with all the others she had only ever seen? Perhaps it was that it was _Cody_ and she had gotten to know him a little and he'd been so nice to her, but she knew his blood on her hands would be a weight she couldn't live with.

She had to choose and she had to pick a side. For now, though, she had to play things carefully. She didn't want to cross her father and she didn't want Cody to wind up dead…what a dilemma, that one was. She had to play her cards just right…she had to find a way to walk that line between the two extremes.

"Alright, Cody, I'll do what I can."

Concealed by shadows stretching across the dock, Edwin stood watching the _SS Tipton_, brooding darkly and unhappily. This ship, these people, this whole circumstance had become nothing but a thorn in his side. He was a quick-tempered, hot-headed man…and all of this made him angry. Which was never a good thing—anyone who had half a wit about them knew this.

That teenager, that Zack Martin, was making a damned nuisance of himself. Edwin didn't give a flip about the investigation, not truly, and he didn't care that the boy could—probably would—lose his brother. None of that mattered to him. Like Mr. Tipton, to Edwin, people were expendable. Whatever gave him the leverage to get just a little bit more ahead.

But nothing was going as smoothly as he wanted it. Nothing was going exactly the way he wanted it.

Jack Matthews…Edwin should have known he hadn't seen the last of the old cop. He'd forced him off the precinct, but it seemed that that had not so easily and totally gotten rid of the bluenose. More importantly, Edwin was no idiot and he was quite aware he'd been one of Jack's targets ever since; he knew that the PI was out to get him, for all the blood on his hands and the crimes to his name.

Yet, Edwin hadn't come this far just to be ousted by some goody-goody with a twist in their PI khakis.

He knew better than to take his chances with that Jack Matthews. The other man would stop at nothing to see him taken down.

Edwin smiled without any real humor at that thought. Perhaps, in that, they were not so different. Both would do whatever they had to in order to get what they were after.

Edwin would have to play a good game from here on out. He couldn't let on that he was stonewalling the investigation. He needed, though, some proper leverage and to come by some false leads. He needed to lay some false trails.

Wouldn't that be peachy? To see that old thorn in his side, that wretched Jack Matthews, run around on a wild goose chase, trying to do the right thing?

At this, Edwin grinned with true humor and malicious glee. That would make all this quite worth it.

What Edwin didn't know, though, was that while he was eyeing the ship and planning his next move, he was also being watched and another was planning_ their_ next move.

Jack Matthews, equally concealed by shipping containers and piles of rope, after all, hadn't worked all those years with Edwin without learning much…perhaps too much. He knew enough of Edwin's tricks. And he had learned them well.

That would be why right now, instead of being back at his office poring over records and examining whatever police files he could come by, et cetera, he was_ spying_ on the _chief_ of police.

Jack's true motive was to see Edwin taken down. The PI would stop at nothing to see that done. No more lives needed to be destroyed. No more.

So he had decided to take a few pages from Edwin's book and now he was tailing the police chief with a solid purpose of seeing the other go down with this investigation. Wherever Edwin had gone, he had gone. Whatever Edwin intended to do, he would know it.

Wherever Edwin went from here, he would be right on the other's heels. This all ended now. It would all end this time around.


	6. Chapter 6 by Tiger002

Guardian Angel

Chapter 6 (Tiger002)

* * *

><p>He heard them.<p>

Voices, arguments.

But the words they were distant, even as he strained to make them out, the walls blocked the sound. Still his nervousness grew as he took in each noise, the sound of chairs moving, of demands being made, of heavy silences that filled him with dread.

What would they do to him?

Would they kill him, ransom him, or something worse. He'd been kept alive this long, so they had to have a reason for it, but what? Would he rather have been killed, his body dumped in the ocean soon to be shark food.

Compared to this waiting, he almost wished for it.

He remembered what Sam told him, that he would likely be ransomed, that his connections to London could get him out of this, but when? Wouldn't they have made the exchange by now, and surely Sam would have given him some information.

He hoped.

Unless her kindness was a ploy, to get his hopes up before they performed whatever unspeakable deed they had planned.

It wouldn't surprise him, he knew these men enjoyed seeing innocent people like him in pain, it fueled them, gave them something to live for.

No matter how sick or demented it was.

Maybe that was their reason for keeping him alive, entertainment, enjoyment at seeing his agony. How a tourist from America felt when he was taken from everything. They'd keep him alive as long as he served some purpose, then they'd point those guns, he couldn't help but focus on, against him.

And that was if he was lucky.

Through the muffling forces of the walls, he could swear he heard something about his name and a buyer.

Shivers erupted along his body. Nightmares brought on by one too many documentaries racing to the forefront of his mind. He pictured himself, a faceless slave, at best forced to work the fields of a country he had never wanted to set foot on during blistering heat.

At worst…

He cringed at the thought. A personal slave for an older, wealthy guy, forced to do unspeakable things for that man's pleasure. Cody curled up, nearly picturing it, the mere thought of being that kind of slave brining him to tears.

He couldn't do it; he wasn't supposed to end up like that.

He knew the stories though. A young man who had everything going for him wrapped up in something he wasn't supposed to see, the drug lords using him for whatever purpose they deemed right.

It was the lucky ones whose bodies were found discarded in the cities or oceans.

But it wasn't too late yet, there had to be something else he could do, he was smart, he was going to be a valedictorian; he couldn't fade from society like this!

And just maybe, there was hope that he'd be rescued. It had only been three days, not that long, so surely he couldn't give up hope yet.

He knew the statistics though, that the longer people were held by their captors, the smaller the chance was of them being found alive. There was also no reason that the police should care about an outsider like him. After all it would only make sense that they'd only want to focus on their own citizens. That wasn't even taking into account the power the drug rings had, the police might not even be able to do anything against them.

There was still Zack though. He knew that even though he was easily distracted by a girl in a swim suit, Zack would do anything to get him back. And even if it took him looking under every rock on the island, Zack would come for him.

Assuming they let him.

The police wouldn't want an overzealous teen interfering in an investigation, and the ship had to leave sometime.

What if they already had? What if they had given up? Surely the other passengers meant something, and they couldn't just stay docked indefinitely. Especially if they knew a kidnapping had occurred, they wouldn't want to stay on the island long. As he had learned from these criminals, there was truth to the power of the almighty dollar.

He couldn't count on a rescue, or that they'd go with the ransom idea. He already knew too much, he'd seen their faces, had been in this dark room long enough to look outside and get a good idea of his surroundings. A liability to be sure, should he leek information to the authorities.

He could only count on himself.

And despite his intelligence, he knew that he didn't have the physical ability to run or fight, or anything. Should he try something, he was sure they'd shoot. Maybe Sam could help, but he knew he couldn't trust an enemy with his life.

He heard the voices fade once more, and judging by the angle of the shadows from the sun, he was guessing it was almost time for lunch.

Assuming he was of some value to them, keeping him nourished would be worth the cost.

…

"So, the ransom?"

"We just got it in today."

"There is no guarantee it will work."

"Are there any other options?"

Ruffles of paper.

Hushed whispers.

"One."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Do you want that boy back alive?"

"Let's try it, but be ready should we need you."

Knocking on the door.

"Come in."

…

Zack walked into Moseby's office after the doctor ordered him to take it easy. Still, he needed to know something. And from what he heard of the conversation, he knew their doubts about the ransom. After all the work he did to get the money from London, he'd hate for it all to be for nothing. He knew he couldn't get his hopes up until Cody was nice and safe. They were closer now, that was for sure, but that didn't mean Cody was back.

"You think this will really work?" he asked, the cruel reality of the world shattering his hopeful ideals that everything would be fine with just the exchange of the green paper.

"I hope so, Zack," Moseby said overwhelmed with the weight of the options, and the danger should they choose wrong. Be too cautious, and Cody could be lost forever, be aggressive, and Jack and Zack could die while trying to save Cody, and there was no guarantee that their sacrifices would do any good.

"What will we do if it doesn't?" Zack asked as he took a seat in front of the desk, not bothering to pause while rested his shoes on Moseby's desk, though for once, the ship manager didn't have the heart to scold him.

"Keep looking,"

"What was Jack's plan?" Zack asked, the time for subtle ponderings over, even if it would risk revealing the fact that he'd hidden a microphone under the desk.

The manager wondered how much he should say. Would Zack want to jump on Jack's band wagon, not caring about the danger that they would both soon face. Heck, there was no way to know that Zack wouldn't take these thugs on himself. It was safer if they could keep him content with the way things were going, to prevent his love causing him to do something that could get both twins killed.

"He is afraid that paying the ransom won't work, that they won't give us Cody."

"But what's the point of giving them the money, I mean, we're paying to get Cody back," Zack yelled, slamming his fists on the desk.

"Criminals rarely follow such rules of conduct," Moseby said gravely.

"I want to help Jack, with whatever he's doing."

"I'll give him a call."

Zack nodded, knowing that his heart told him he should do something other than just wait around, he could quiet his impatience at least for now.

He just hoped the time for action was soon, he loathed how powerless he was.

But soon, that just might change.


	7. Chapter 7 by thelovelyanomoly

Edwin Hawthorn remained, alone, on the dock overlooking the SS Tipton, about to shove his phone back into his pocket, when one of his officers, a man by the name of Clay Morris, ran up to him from behind. "Sir, I got news about Cody!" he said.

"Can you say that a little louder?" Edwin sneered. He loved giving his officers a hard time, especially when he was in a foul mood. Heck, even when he was in a good mood, he fancied being hard on them. It was a way to demonstrate his authority over them. "I'm not sure everyone within a mile heard you."

"Sorry, sir," Morris gasped, trying to catch his breath. It was quite clear that he'd been running.

Edwin shook his head. "What is it?" he asked in a half-concerned, half-disgruntled manner.

"We received a ransom request from the traffickers."

Suddenly Edwin's eyes grew wide. "How much are they demanding?"

Morris coughed into his hands, his breath still not caught up with him.

"What's the figure, Morris!" shouted Edwin, his expression menacing.

"Somewhere in—in the millions," Morris stammered.

Edwin cursed under his breath, jamming his fists into his pockets, looking down at the dock as though he had been severely betrayed. "This wasn't what I wanted," he whispered to himself. "That wasn't the plan. Bastards double-crossed me."

"Sir?" Morris asked, his voice laced with timidity. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" Edwin snapped. "Look, just go back to your station."

"Yes, sir." And with that, Morris disappeared in the direction from whence he came, leaving Edwin to curse and fume over this unexpected shift of events.

After a few more minutes had gone by, in which he'd made a quick decision, he jumped into his cruiser and began to drive, too absorbed in the news he'd just received to notice that he was being followed.

…

Edwin Hawthorn's cruiser came to a stop right at the corner of an abandoned, filthy-looking alleyway—a place no one went to, or even thought of, anymore. Most didn't so much as notice it, having their attention on other destinations around the area. It was the perfect place for criminal activity.

Jack parked his own car several paces back so as not to be spotted, and watched as the clearly infuriated Edwin Hawthorn got out of his car and began walking down the alleyway, strutting as though he were about to punch someone's daylights out. Jack was not surprised. In fact, a slight smile tugged at his lips as he saw the crooked cop vanish into the darkness. "Gotcha," he whispered to himself.

As soon as Edwin Hawthorn was out of eyeshot, Jack bolted out of his own car, armed with just a gun, and advanced towards the alleyway himself. He sprinted to the corner or a little shop, peered around it, and then took off down the empty passageway. He wanted to break into a run, but decided against it. Too risky. Edwin could hear him—or worse, turn around and see him. So he walked, keeping his gun slightly poised, his eyes sharp, staying close to the ridges of the buildings in case he needed to hide.

And he did. When he caught up to Edwin, he found himself gazing into a large enclosure situated between three old apartment buildings, which, judging by the old bottles, cans, smoked cigarettes that littered the place, used to be a hangout area once upon a time. Edwin Hawthorn stood in the middle of it, facing a dark-haired, dark-skinned man dressed in khakis, boots, and a tank-top, his muscular arms glinting with sweat. Both men carried an air of dominance about them, and it was clear to Jack that neither was afraid of the other.

Jack listened while they spoke, unable to make out their words but able to tell by the tones of their voices that they were having a serious, perhaps even hostile, conversation.

He has to be the leader, Jack thought. There was no doubt in his mind, he'd just found the leader of the traffickers—one of the few people who knew where Cody was! He wanted to rush in, to arrest the bastard, to brutally interrogate him; he wanted to beat him, shove him against a hard surface, and scream in his face.

But of course, he couldn't. If he did he'd never be able to find Cody.

All he could do was stand there and wait, watching as the people responsible for Cody's disappearance—as well as God knew how many other heinous criminal acts—interacted. He was comforted by the fact that he was one step closer to cracking the case, but one step seemed so miniscule.

Eventually the two men began walking away, in the opposite direction from when Edwin came. Jack had no idea where they were headed, but instantly opted to follow them. Sliding along the ridges of the walls, he did, keeping his eye on them, the hammer on his gun pulled back, his finger on the trigger. Part of him wanted to shoot them both, but he refrained. Could they be leading him to Cody?

They reached a building that appeared to be an abandoned sweatshop and entered. Luckily there were rows of windows that ran across the walls on every floor, and Jack ran up to one that flanked the door and peered inside. Edwin and his accomplice were among a group of about fifteen people, all of them bound and gagged, some bearing cuts and bruises. Jack felt his stomach clench. Other victims.

But where was Cody? Was he here? Did they keep him somewhere else?

There were two tables in the back of the room, on which utensils were piled and scattered about; old, fluorescent lights hung about a foot from the ceiling; a pillar stood erect right in the center with what appeared to be a calendar hooked to it; a heavily cobwebbed fan was blowing, shifting back and forth, and in the far left corner behind it, its paint peeling off, was a door guarded by two men with machine guns.

As soon as he saw it, it opened. Out came a young girl. And before she could close it behind her, Jack spotted him—Cody, slumped over—inside.

…

"I'm sick of it, Mr. Moseby!" Zack shouted, his voice furious. "I can't take this waiting anymore. I have to get out there and do something!"

"Zack, I've told you, it's too dangerous," Mr. Moseby told him. "You could get yourself killed."

"Well, I'd take that for a shot at getting my brother back!"

Mr. Moseby shook his head. "Zack, listen to me—I know you want to save your brother. I know this is devastating for you. But you need to leave this matter to the adults. The last thing we want is for Cody to wind up dead."

"And what if he does wind up dead, huh? What if you 'adults' screw everything up and we're too late to save him?"

Mr. Moseby didn't reply.

"I'd rather those traffickers kill us both than have to live without him."

"Oh, Zack…" Mr. Moseby pulled the older twin into a tight hug and held him against his chest like a parent would a child. "Don't say such things."

Zack felt tears pool his eyes. He tried to hold them back, but to no avail. "I miss him so much, Mr. Moseby. I'm going crazy without him."

"I know, son. I know."

If Zack had been himself at that moment, he would have teased the old man for calling him "son." He would have laughed and made him the butt of witty and crude jokes.

But Zack wasn't himself, and if anything, he was comforted by Mr. Moseby's sentiment.

"We have to trust Jack's plan now," Mr. Moseby added.

"Yeah," he agreed, sniffling and swallowing, his throat still sore from the throwing up he'd done. "It's just…so much trust, you know? I hardly know Jack and I'm trusting him with my brother's life! It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'm supposed to protect him, Mr. Moseby. I'm supposed to keep him safe. But I failed. Like always, I failed him."

"Zack, I mean it," Mr. Moseby said sternly, pushing Zack away by the shoulders and staring at him with a no-nonsense expression. "Don't ever talk like that. I won't stand for it." A slight smile tugged at his lips. "For once in your lifetime, Zachary Martin, do as I tell you."

Zack sighed and slowly nodded.

And just then, Mr. Moseby's cell phone began to ring from inside one of the pockets on his shorts. He took it out and answered it. "Hello? London?"

Zack's heart skipped a beat. His guts started doing summersaults.

When Mr. Moseby suddenly donned a huge grin, he felt elation take hold of him. Embrace him like a long-lost loved one.

"Thank you so much, sweetheart!" Mr. Moseby said. "And tell your father I said thank you!"

He snapped the phone shut and put it back. "We've got the money. It's at the ship, ready to be picked up."

…

When Zack and Mr. Moseby boarded the ship, they were approached by London who was wearing a long, none-too-revealing jacket and a spy-like hat. Zack almost let out a giggle. Typical London. She had to dress for every occasion—even a ransom.

Mr. Moseby was all about business. "Where's the money?" he immediately asked, to which London referred them to the captain's cabin.

As soon as they were inside the captain's cabin and feasted their eyes on the rather hefty suitcase lying on the grand master bed in the center of the room, the older twin felt—in addition to the elation he was still experiencing from London's phone call—a spark of hope. The money was there. It was right before him, and they were ready to make the trade.

"Thanks for this, London," Zack heard himself say. "Really, thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied. To his astonishment, she wrapped her arms around him and rested the side of her face against the crook of his neck. "You know I care about Cody too, don't you?"

"Yeah. I know."

"I'd never want anything to happen to him."

"I know that. Listen, I don't think you're heartless or anything. I know you had your reasons for not wanting to ask your dad for the money. Maybe it was selfish of me for asking, but…when my brother's in trouble…"

"I understand. You guys are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?"

More tears stung Zack's eyes. "You're a beautiful person, London. You really are."

Mr. Moseby's phone rang again. This time, it was Jack. "He's back on the road," Mr. Moseby informed the curious teens when he'd hung up.

But then the phone rang again. Almost like luck. Or fate.

Mr. Moseby knew, even before he checked the screen, that it was the traffickers.

Zack and London knew too.

Zack suppressed the urge to yank the phone right out of Mr. Moseby's hands and scream his lungs out at those sick bastards. To demand that they tell him where his brother was. Images of his little brother being thrown into the van clouded his memory. His vision turned blood red. Rage flooded through his veins like electrical currents, igniting him, burning him. He clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth, and tried, above all else, to keep breathing.

It took all he had to refrain himself from carrying out his impulsive urges, but he did. Think of him maimed, he told himself, which he could barely do but the idea alone was enough to hold him back. If anyone made a false move, Cody would pay the price.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity on the phone, Mr. Moseby hung up and looked at the teens with a mixture of worry and resolve. "It was them," he said, though he didn't have to. "They've left Cody at a drop off point. We have to go there."

"Where is it?" Zack asked quickly, seized by the desperation to see his brother again.

Mr. Moseby paused. And then he answered.


	8. Chapter 8 by In the Twilight's Flames

**Chapter 8 by In the Twilight's Flames**

They made their way to the dock.

Moseby.

Maya (Despite Zack's plea for her to stay where it was safe)

A number of plain clothed policemen.

But not Zack.

Nor Jack.

They had other plans.

Zack wanted nothing more than to see his brother alive, but there was something off, something that seemed too easy.

If Cody was there, the police would find him safe and sound, and they'd see each other by the end of the day.

But trust wasn't something he could attribute to these criminals.

Nor the police, Jack telling him the truth about Edwin shattered any hope he had of them being reliable. At least until they got rid of Edwin, one way or another.

Besides, if Cody wasn't there, their work was futile, getting the money from London meaningless, and Cody would be one step close to whatever horrible fate they had in store for him.

So instead, the two would ensure Cody was free, ensure Edwin went down, and with him the entire drug ring.

Jack saw what this was. Not just a chance to save a kid who got caught up by a stroke of misfortune, but the time to end it all, to finish Edwin, to free the island from the clutches of evil. He knew all too well how far the drug rings would go for a buck, how they'd kill and steal without discrimination, but the almighty dollar would soon be their downfall, unable to resist the allure when a billionaire was so close to their victim. They'd capitalize on it of course, and while they did, they'd be vulnerable. Maybe Jack was a fool, maybe a reckless dreamer, but if he knew Edwin, he'd be too secretive to just let Cody go free with all he had seen, but also too overconfident that he'd suspect this coming assault.

He looked at Zack with a solemn gaze, knowing all too well what might lie in store for him should things not go well. For all they knew, Cody would be found dead, his corpse possibly rotting there since that call those many days back when they got to hear that sweet sound of his voice. He didn't dare let Zack think about that though. "We'll get him," he said, knowing full well that it could have only been a lie.

"Yeah."

Forward Zack stared, heart guiding his gaze, hope seeing his brother's face and faith telling him to pray, that his hope may soon be realized.

…

"They said this is where they'd meet us," Moseby said, his voice hallow, patience growing thin. He had been dragged through too much between Zack, London, Mr. Tipton, far too much for a man who simply ran a cruise ship. Though he knew, as much as he hated the stress, this was for a kid he thought of much like a son, one that he'd go to the ends of the earth for, despite the frequent times he wanted to throw both those twins to the sharks.

"Patience sir," the cop replied, guns ready to fire, nerves frayed all around.

For in that hour, time slowed to a crawl, everybody waiting, but for just what, they could not know. Shadows of fear, of hope, of exhaustion, but mostly of love danced within Moseby's mind. Things would be all right soon.

Or so he hoped.

…

He'd never hated beaches so much in his life. So much sand, so much sun, so many waves crashing into the ocean.

Normally, he'd relax and enjoy it, but he couldn't now. Another check of his watch indicated they'd been here two hours.

Then, like the flash of lightning on a dark night, a dozen men emerged on the beach, scattered as if to enjoy the beautiful whether, but beneath their relaxed demeanor, Moseby didn't need an explanation to know just who they were.

Criminals.

Heartless bastards just like Edwin.

He wanted to jump at them, but he couldn't. Instead he was powerless, knowing he could only wait, play by their terms, and kept his eyes out for Cody, hoping that Jack was wrong

The Suitcase was taken, a paper left behind.

But no sign of the twin anywhere.

"That's it?" he asked the cop.

"Yeah, we give them the money; they tell us where they left the hostage."

"So this has happened before?"

"Sadly, we've got it down to a science."

His heart plummeted. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to ask the question throbbing in his mind so badly.

'How many were found alive?'

…

Jack and Zack drove alongside the cliff, overlooking the old abandoned house Jack had followed Edwin to just the day before.

Fear filled the air around them, tension high. Both wanted to rush in, but to do so would be suicide.

So, they waited, for the right time.

Whenever that would be.

"A text from Moseby," Zack said, opening up his phone, eager for good news.

He gets none.

Only an update.

"It's to be expected," Jack replies.

Zack leans forward again, brooding over the plan. They are to break in through the back door, storm through the garage, find Cody, capture Edwin and anyone else, and wait for the cops to hall them all away, and then go live happily ever after.

Easier said than done.

But still, sitting here doing nothing.

He hated it, his body itched, his skin crawled, hoping for a glimmer of progress to break him out of this nervous boredom, his binoculars trained on the house once more, looking for any sight of his brother, hoping that Moseby would be with him soon and this paranoid hunt would be just that.

…

"Are you sure this is where the note said he'd be?" Moseby asked, after they had been around the pier for the eighth time, tracking every inch, shouting Cody's name so loud it had to resonate all the way back in America.

But nothing, no response, no sight of him anywhere.

"Think they tricked us?"

He hoped his question wasn't as obvious as it sounded, that they were simply confused about the location, that they misread it.

But Moseby looked over the note once more, seeing now more than ever that it was the pier just north of town overlooking the ocean two miles from where the cruise ship docked.

There was no other place.

"Looks like it's time for plan B," the cop said, and Moseby sent the text, only hoping Zack and Jack knew what they were getting into, that they could keep cool heads.

Maya closed her eyes in prayer, fearing it would come to this. It was Zack's fight now, but she couldn't give up hope. She'd just have to have faith that Zack wouldn't do anything reckless, that he'd keep his head clear, now that he was finally getting what he wanted.

Since Cody was taken, Zack had been eager.

No, that was an understatement, but now he'd get his chance, to provide his brother's salvation with his own two hands.

Moseby only hoped Zack was ready, that he'd use his head, not his heart to guide him, and that he'd listed to the wisdom of Jack.

If not, they could lose everything.


	9. Chapter 9 by Tiger002

**A/N:** Song lyrics are taken from Phil Collins' "You'll be in my heart"

**Chapter 9 by Tiger002**

"Zack," Jack said resting his shoulder on the young man's arm. He knew what Zack was thinking, the way the wheels turned in his head reminded him a lot of his younger days. Reckless, wanting things made right, and pushing all but one thing aside.

"Hold on," Zack said, the binoculars focused on the shadows within the darkened house. He knew there was something there, something moved, and despite the still darkness, he could see something, a figure still cloaked by darkness, but there all the same.

"You really think he's there?"

"Yeah, I do." Zack wanted to race down the cilffside, break in and save his brother. He felt the gun in his pocket, knowing that with it he could end all of this horrific nightmare. He could only imagine the kind of pain his brother had gone through. Every second of his dreams, when he was lucky enough to sleep, were filled with those imagines, reminding him of his failure to protect Cody.

But now, he'd be the brother Cody deserved, the brother he should have been, the one he was too distracted to be.

A light comes on for a brief second, and though the window Zack sees the disheveled hair of his brother.

"I knew it!" Zack practically shouted. Even though the light faded as soon as it appeared, he got enough of a look of that blond hair that he knew it could only be Cody. Now, with his heart racing, he wanted nothing more than to barge into and break Cody out, once and for all.

Though through all his excitement, he barely noticed the phone vibrating in his pocket. Reaching down , he slid his hand around the gun to get to his phone. He opened up his phone, knowing the good news that he had hoped for wouldn't be there.

Just as he thought, no sign of Cody. Holding it so Jack could see it as well, Zack knew that if they were to make a move, they'd have to act fast. Something he wasn't in objection to.

"Tell him to play along, but that we have Cody in our sights."

"So that means-"

"Are you ready for this Zack?"

Zack nodded. He'd been ready for this the second he first saw Cody taken. He'd been ready when he first learned who Edwin really was. He'd been ready when they first got to the house.

"Then let's go."

They got back in Jack's car and drove it down the Cliffside, Zack not taking his eyes off the house where Cody was being held for a second. Each second in the car, each stop sign, each bump of the road seemed to last an eternity for the elder twin. He kept his eyes open, looking for something, anything he'd need to know in order to save Cody.

After what was only a few moments, Jack pulled the car behind a bush about a quarter mile from the house. He wanted to make sure they didn't arose any suspicion, sure that a car would be noticed. The two of them got out and made their way down the street, scanning for any opposition. They didn't expect it to be openly guarded, that would be too obvious for Edwin's enemies. But the unseen defenses could prove much deadlier.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone here," Zack said

"Don't underestimate him."

Upon making it to the house, they snuck up to the back door, hiding from the sight of any windows. Crouched down, Jack turned the nob, only to find that the door was locked, though that didn't seem to surprise him any. Reaching up slowly, he fiddled with the lock, causing the door gently swinging open.

Zack looked on, ready to run, but waited until he was sure the time was right. The two listened for a moment, for movement, for the guards to discover the open doors. They wouldn't believe Edwin would leave the place completely unguarded; that would just be too easy. So they had to strike fast, use the element of surprise to give them a chance.

A moment passed, no one seeming to be there.

Jack nodded, and the two of them entered the house, finding themselves in a large room that resembled a large garage, a couple small cars and a truck parked in it. Zack and Jack hid behind one of the cars, hearing movement from behind the walls.

"They're coming," Jack whispered but it went right over Zack's head. All he could think about was that Cody was in this building, they were so close to him. He could practically smell his nerdy brother not far from here. He recognized the truck that drove off with him while he could only writhe in pain from the blow to the head sitting right behind him. A small part of him wondered if that would happen again. He worried he wouldn't be strong enough, that he'd let his brother down again.

But he just wouldn't give these guys the chance.

He smiled as the footsteps grew louder; he crouched down, ready to spring up at a moment's notice, to take down whoever was in his way. He looked under the car, seeing the two pairs of feet.

His first victims.

"Why'd you leave the door open like that?"

"I told you, I locked it."

"Oh, just like that time last year when someone's carelessness cost us a sweet ten million, but you had nothing to do with it."

"Whatever."

Zack saw the two walk over to the door, completely oblivious to the them hiding behind the car. And with their backs turned, he knew this was their best opportunity.

He held out three fingers to which Jack nodded. There were times where he knew a plan was needed, where he had to make sure he wasn't running into something far worse, but not now. His fears were driven away by love, courage fueling him, perhaps even pushing away his common sense. He was going to rescue Cody, it didn't matter what happened to him, or anyone else. He was too close to fail his brother now.

Jack started to whisper something, but Zack didn't bother to pay attention to him. Instead he burst out from the car, and before the guard could figure out what had happened, Zack slammed his knee into his enemy's crotch before slamming his body against the wall. He held his arm against the man's neck, cutting off his breathing before brandishing his knife and holding it against his neck.

The guard was shaking, something that caused Zack to smile. "Now," Zack paused, an adrenaline fueled rage slowly coursing his veins as he pressed his arm against him harder, knowing that he was smaller, that surprise could only hold this thug for so long. He turned to see Jack had the other thug on the ground. "Where is my brother?" Zack finally asked, after drawing the faintest line of blood on the guy's neck. "You know, looks like me, you took him about a week back. Probably scared out of his wits."

Through his shakes, the guard managed to point toward the door, causing Zack to back away just an inch. He wasn't here to kill, but he'd take down anyone who would get in his way. "He's held in the basement; go inside, down the hallway, second door in the left, take the stairs. The door at the far side locks from the outside, he's in there."

And with the information Zack needed, he dropped the thug to the ground. He sprinted toward the door, having all the information he needed, knowing it was just a matter of a few steps to finding his best friend. He was so close, he could taste it. His ears picked up on Jack yelling for him, but he mind was too focused to care.

He rounded another corner, went down some stairs, and swung a door open with enough force to knock it off the hinges. Upon hearing a crash behind him, he wondered if he had in fact knocked the door clean off, but he didn't care, he just kept running, his ears tuned to the sound of his brother's voice, hoping for just a whimper, a whisper, anything; he'd recognize it, and know that things would be okay.

"So, you came," a feminine voice said and Zack saw a girl with black hair step out into the hallway, and judging by the empty plate, could only assume that she was just with Cody.

"Step aside," he ordered, reaching down for his gun, he wasn't ready to shoot quite yet, and this girl seemed younger than him, so killing her wasn't something he wanted to do. Though if that's what it took to save his brother, then, he'd just have to get over his conscious.

"You're Zack, aren't you?"

"So what if I am?"

"He said you'd come."

"Of course, what kind of brother would I be if I just left him with you guys? Now, are you going to take me to him," Zack pulled out the gun, pointed it at her, and held it as still as possible, "Or will I have to use this."

"Your grip is wrong, the force of firing it would knock it out of your hands, possibly injuring your fingers in the process," she said calm, unfazed even though Zack looked to be ready to kill at a moment's notice. "Not to mention your hand is shaking so much your aim would be horrible."

He paused for a moment, not sure of what her game was. She wasn't scared; she wasn't trying to fight him. Was this a trick, something to lure him off guard, but what could she do? She was unarmed, and not that muscular either. She probably couldn't put up that much of a fight.

She set the plate down on the floor and turned to slowly walk down the hall.

"Wait, where's Cody?" Zack asked, wanting, needing to be in control.

"I'll taking you to him. Just follow me," she said still as unafraid and unfazed by this as before. This was too easy, could Zack really trust her, could she just be leading him somewhere where he'd be shot? Or maybe she was really scared for her life and didn't want to make him mad, but was just hiding her fear really well or something.

That could be it.

Maybe…

Probably not.

But it was all he had, so he ran to catch up, keeping his gun out, his eyes constantly on the lookout for anything suspicious, his ears honed on any noise that would indicate an enemy.

"You chose the right time to come," she said as they rounded another corner, her path perfectly matching the directions that guard gave him. "Most of Dad's men are gone, so with any luck, you can both survive this."

"Why are you helping me if Edwin is your father?" he asked, something seeming terribly wrong with such a scenario.

"I'd rather not see Cody hurt, that's all."

"I'm not convinced. Just know one wrong move and I shoot."

"Skepticism is a valuable asset Zack," she said, walking further down the hallway. He had to be missing something; they wouldn't just let someone take their asset worth millions of dollars like this. "He's in here." She pulled a key out of her pocket, stuck it in the doorknob and slowly turned it, Zack's heart raced both to see that his brother was alive and well, but also, in case this was a trap, all to set him up. He pulled the gun down, not wanting to scare Cody, but still held his finger on the trigger, ready to fire should he need to.

The door swung open, and she stepped back, so he could see wait lied with in. And as the faint light from the hallways illuminated the room, he saw it, and his heart swelled with joy.

Cody.

Sitting there, starting up at him.

And in an instant, the room grew ten times brighter, Zack knew it was only an illusion of his mind, but all the stress, all the despair, faded into sweet relief at the moment. He put his weapon away, raced across the hallway, into the room, the great divide that separated them days ago no more, and now, he embraced his twin, tears of joy erupting from his eyes. In that moment, all was right with the world. He wasn't in the basement of these evil men's base, he was simply with his brother, and in the wake of all the chaos and sleepless nights, the weight of separation, had finally been lifted.

Come stop your crying. It will be all right. Just take my hand. Hold it tight. /I/

"Zack," Cody said, not knowing what to think, not able to believe that this was actually happened. He felt his brother's warmth, and he felt the pain and the hunger fade. He even started to cry, his impossible dream actually realized.

Cody looked into the hallway, seeing Sam standing back to the side, and if he wasn't mistaken, he saw a tear drop from her eyes.

"If you want to get out of here, I suggest you hurry," Sam said as she began walking away.

"What about you?" Cody asked, feeling slightly bad at leaving her to deal with her father who no doubt would be furious.

"It will be okay," she said vanishing around a corner leaving the twins alone in the room, now knowing that there was only thing left to do now that they were together again.

Get out of here.

Zack and Cody both knew that there would have to be more guards waiting for them, on their way up, but they had made it so far. Cody wiped the tears of joy away, and Zack placed his hand on his twin's shoulder. This was it, they were together, and it mattered not what the world threw their way.

"You ready?" Zack asked, as he helped Cody back to his feet, his determination stronger than ever to get both of them out of here safety. He thought about what London said, how she didn't want to lose anyone else, and how he had promised her that they wouldn't lose anyone. Now it was time to make good on his word.

Cody nodded, and the two of them slowly walked out of the room, Zack taking the lead, wanting to be the first for any enemy to spot. He would be the big brother, the protector he had failed to be those few days ago.

Zack tried retracing his steps, wishing he'd paid more attention when coming down here, but that was too far from his mind at the time. But even in the blur he had passed it before, he still remembered enough to keep going, and luckily the house wasn't that big so he didn't have too many places to get lost in. He could just imagine how bad it could be if he was trapped in a huge mansion trying to work his way out while trying to avoid enemies

As they started climbing the stairs, a gunshot rocked the house. Cody lost his footing and nearly fell backwards, but upon hearing his brother gasp, Zack turned and with lightning fast reflexes, latched onto Cody's wrist.

"I got you."

Zack could see Cody shaking, the sound of a gun obviously terrifying him. Cody was never fond of weapons like that, the way their careless use could end a life so quickly, and to make it worse, he knew the kind of people they were dealing with, the kind who would shoot first and care never.

_I will protect you from all around you.  
>I will be here.<br>Don't you cry. _

"They won't hurt you ever again."

Cody nodded and some of the fear vanished. He was still scared, and almost longed for the safety of his dark, lonely room, but Zack was with him, and that meant he'd be all right.

Slowly, stepping as silently as possible, they continued up the stairs, cursing each creek, afraid that could give away their position. Zack kept his hand on his pocket, hoping that he could end any battle with a single shot, and then they could keep going. For a second, he wondered if Jack was okay, his mind brought back to the detective that had been the whole reason he had been able to find Cody, or even learned who Edwin truly is.

And then, with the gun shot so close, he could only guess Jack was involved, he just hoped the detective was the one firing, and not the victim. If he had been smart, he would have stayed with Jack the whole time; there was strength in numbers after all.

But as he reached the basement door, he placed his hand on it, contemplating his move. If he was to make the first move, he'd have to move fast, fire before his opponent got the chance to, but he had no idea of the situation, he could go in blind and find himself in an even worse situation.

"Stay back," Zack said, and Cody nodded, too scared and excited to do anything but comply. He took a couple steps back down, giving Zack the room he needed to do whatever needed to be done.

With that, Zack turned the handle hoping, praying that the hinge wasn't squeaky and that whatever enemies might lie beyond would be occupied with their own struggles. He took a deep breath and swallowed, getting ready for whatever lied beyond.

He let the light of the room fill his vision as he scanned every location, looking for anyone standing there, but he saw no one.

"Zack," a raspy voice called out, causing Zack to look down. Several feet away, Jack laid on the floor, bleeding, quite badly at that.

"What happened?" Zack asked, running to the detective.

"Look out," the wounded man said right as Zack felt an object shoved against his back.

"So close," he said, and Zack didn't have to turn around to know it was Edwin.

How could he be so careless? How could he let himself fail, especially when he was so close?

"Take that gun out of your pocket and slide it across the room. I'm sure we can get twice as much for two of Miss Tipton's friends."

Zack clenched his teeth; that was his only weapon, his only way to fight back, but there was no way for him to use it in a time like this. If he was dead, he'd be no use to Cody, not to mention he had no plans of dying today. "Fine," he said as defiantly as possible, seeing that there was still some hope. Edwin hadn't gotten Cody yet, he was free, and he could only hope that would give him the chance he needed.

He placed the gun on the ground, slowly, not wanting to provoke Edwin any, and slid the gun across the ground, right to the basement door and he heard it crash down a few steps.

Perfect.

"Now sit against the wall kid."

Any other time, he would have snapped about being called kid, but instead he just mumbled something, not willing to let Edwin know his plan. If he acted like all hope was lost, Edwin might believe him, and that would be just what Zack would use to bring him down.

"Good," Edwin said as he turned to walk away, and Zack stared at the basement the second. He could swear he saw a nod in the darkness, signaling a reply from his silent plea. Now he could only wait, and hope. Strangely, he wasn't as scared as he thought he'd be, Cody was here, and they'd take down this thug together.

Cody wanted to throw up as he grabbed the weapon of death. But he couldn't, he had to use it. Zack was counting on him. Zack wasn't scared at holding a gun, Zack would just rush in and save him, in fact he already did.

Now it was his turn to return the favor.

Laying against the steps, to hide his location he slowly inched close, making sure Edwin was the only threat they had. With the danger they were already in, the last thing they needed were reinforcements to deal with. He saw Edwin walk across the room; pull out some rope from a cabinet with his back turned to Zack. Cody propped his head up just a bit and gave Zack a look of assurance He'd have to bide his time, Zack was right to move slowly this time, so Cody would have to do the same. One shot, that's all he'd need. He cringed at the thought of actually killing someone, but sometimes people couldn't be reasoned with, and violence was necessary. He thought of how he could shoot someone without it being lethal, a wound to the shoulder, or leg would be enough to bring him down.

He just hoped his stigmatism wouldn't make getting a good shot off difficult. He'd just aim for the chest, which gave him the best margin of error to still hit if his aim was off. Even if it was a lethal shot, saving Zack was more important than keeping Edwin alive.

As Edwin walked across the room, ready to tie Zack up, Cody slowly, got to his feet, his body achy from all time spent still. But he pushed those thoughts away, and took aim right as Edwin stood over Zack.

"Now turn around, we'll make sure you don't do anything stupid."

As Zack complied, Cody stood with a prayer for luck, he pulled the trigger, the resounding boom nearly deafening him, the force so great that the gun shot out of his hand, but as he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the sight of a bullet tearing through another human, he heard no scream of pain. He opened his eyes, and saw the bullet embedded into the wall.

But worst of all, he saw Edwin turning toward him, his gun raised as if the world all stood in slow motion. He froze, his only chance, gone.

Though as the world stood still for the younger twin, Zack rose to his feet, and with a mighty roar, his delivered an earth shattering punch to the side of Edwin's face sending him sprawling to the ground, dropping his gun in the process.

_For one so small,  
>You seem so strong<br>My arms will hold you  
>Keep you safe and warm.<em>

Free from his fear, Cody kicked the gun away as he saw Edwin was trying to get to it, but his captor wasn't content to be beaten that easily, though they were both unarmed, Edwin got up from the ground, pulling Cody's leg out from under him as he did so.

With a heavy thud, Cody slammed into the ground, but he rolled to the side and got back up, looking to his twin on the other side of Edwin. They might not have had the advantage of a gun or the element of surprise, but they had each other, and they'd find a way to take down this guy together.

Zack ran at Edward, throwing another punch, but the older man caught his wrist, though Zack didn't let that stop him, but instead used the leverage to jump up and kick Edwin in the stomach, freeing his wrist, and sending an unbalanced Edwin reeling back. Cody stepped to the side, and then elbowed Edwin in the gut, feeling strange that he was using as much force as he could on another person, with every intent to hurt. It unsettled him how he could fight like this, but he didn't' worry about that, following up the elbow, with a kick containing as much force as he could muster.

Edwin reeled back further, and with him so off balance, he could do nothing to stop Zack from leaping and tackling him to the ground, the force of the twin on him too much. "Get the rope!" Zack yelled as he tried holding down his foe's wrist while the larger man squirmed trying to get out from under him. Zack knew he didn't have much time, but if he could hold him down just long enough, they could leave him there for the police and bring him down once and for all.

Cody ran back across the room, seeing the rope that Edwin was going to use to tie up his brother, and appreciated the sweet irony that this was going to now be his undoing. Edwin continued to struggle as Cody dashed back to him, Zack doing what he could to bring his wrists together, trying not to flinch as Edwin's limbs swung wildly, hitting Zack whenever they could.

Cody pounced on Edwin's left arm, his whole body weight keeping it in place, and then Zack swung Edwin's right arm over to it and harnessing his knot-tying ability from the brief time he was a wildness scout, Cody bound his wrists together. Then, they went for the legs, these much easier to control, Cody jumping on them before binding them together as well.

The two of them got up, seeing the once untouchable chief of police lying of the floor, completely powerless, broken, humiliated, and finally, beaten.

"We got him," Cody said, but Zack wasn't quite content with just tying him up. The elder twin walked up to the man on the ground, pulled his foot back, and slammed it into Edwin's face, drawing quite a bit of blood and earning a few curse words from Edwin.

"Now we got him."

Cody would normally say Zack went too far, but he stood, his arms crossed, and wished he had done the same.

"Let's get out of here now," Zack said, walking over to Jack, nearly forgetting he was there in the midst of the battle with Edwin, and helped him back to his feet. "Can you make it back to the car?"

"I guess I don't really have much choice," he said, leaning on Zack for support, knowing he have to swallow his pride and let this kid help him. "It's good to finally see you Cody." His voice was weak, but still had a gruff flavor to it, showing strength despite the pain.

"Good to see you too," Cody said, not really sure what to say to this stranger.

"He's the guy that found you Cody," Zack said.

Before more questions could be ask, the sound of police sirens echoed all throughout the distance, and all three of them let out a breath of relief. The police, now free from Edwin's grasp would be able to provide the island with the justice it deserved, Jack could get to the hospital and get the treatment he needed, and with Cody placing his hand on Zack's shoulder, the twins knew that this hellish nightmare was over


	10. Chapter 10 by WoundedHearts

Guardian Angel

Chapter 10 (woundedhearts)

* * *

><p>The large cruise ship was a welcome sight after living in a basement for the better part of a week. If he closed his eyes he could still imagine being in such an enclosed space and not having any way of escape. The smell of the room, the feel of it would stay with him until the day he died. Still the most horrific part was not knowing if he'd survive. Playing the waiting game while images of different memories he'd known throughout his life lingered. Faces he'd come to love, people he'd come to respect and admire never to be seen or heard again. He'd come close to giving up when he saw a ray of hope in the form of his brother walking through that door. Nothing ever looked so good to him and all his fears slipped away into the darkness and he finally felt alive.<p>

"Cody!" A few of his friends rushed down the plank to meet him and instantly wrapped their arms around him. Their words of joy ringing through his ears became a welcoming sound and he basked in it.

"We thought you were dead," Woody said and instantly received a slap to the back of his head by Addison.

"I'll be honest, it was touch and go there for awhile," he replied with a slight smile.

"I'm glad your okay," Maya told him again giving him a quick hug.

"Me too," London smiled standing nearby waiting to be acknowledged. "It wouldn't have been the same without you."

Cody walked up a few feet and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you London," he whispered burying his head in her shoulder as they silently stood for a minute just holding one another. London placed her head against his and pulled him closer into her embrace. No words needed to be spoken and everyone waited until the exchange was over.

Moseby and Zack exchanged a knowing glance. For all London's protests they knew the truth, she deeply cared for them and in spite of it all would always consider them part of her family.

"Okay enough of that, your wrinkling the rich girl," she whispered still holding him close and in no hurry to set him free.

After a minute Cody simply smiled and released his hold on her but kept his arm around her waist as she placed her head on his shoulder.

"I'm hungry!"

"Woody!"

"What I'm hungry and tonight they're having the Mexican buffet," he smiled.

"You know I'm kind of hungry myself," Cody announced to the group while placing a hand on his stomach.

They took that as a sign it was time to head onto the ship and as they quietly made their way they suddenly heard someone call Cody's name. They all turned to see Carey running toward the gangplank and Cody rushed down to meet her half way.

"Mommy."

"My baby," Carey cried as she held Cody tightly to her. "I was so scared. I thought I'd lost you."

"It's okay I'm here," the young boy replied as another set of arms wrapped themselves around them.

Cody smiled up to see the loving eyes of his father who ruffled his hair before pulling him toward him. All those emotions that were so trapped within him were beginning to come to the surface and he had to shut his eyes to the intrusion.

"Cody you okay, son?" Kurt asked a bit concerned.

"I'm fine, I just need some space."

"Sorry honey we didn't mean to suffocate you," Carey began.

"No its not you, it's been a long week," Cody sighed. "Is it okay if I see you both later, I need some sleep."

"No problem, we'll be here when you wake up," Kurt told his youngest son as he left them.

Cody didn't bother to stop when he rushed up the gangplank and into the ship determined on making it back to his cabin before he broke down. Exiting the elevator he tore into his room and collapsed onto the bed as a flood of tears took hold and his body began to shake. He was sobbing into his pillow when Zack walked in. A minute later he let his brother take him into his arms and hold him while he cried against his chest.

* * *

><p>Out in the lobby near the check in desk everyone was discussing the events of the previous few days when Moseby's cell phone went off. Taking a glance at the name he answered giving his usual greeting.<p>

"Hey Moseby, I just wanted to let you know everything is in order and its case closed."

"Thanks Jack, but won't Cody have to testify?"

"Actually we have so much footage from the cameras that he may not have too," Jack replied. "With his statement about the drugs he saw being put into the van that might be enough. I'm working out a deal with the district attorney's office. If he does have to testify it won't be for awhile."

"Well I guess that's something. Cody's been through enough," Moseby thought about how hard Zack worked to find his brother and added. "I think they both have."

"I agree, I'll keep you posted," Jack paused for a minute before continuing. "Not to change the subject, but I do have a bit of good news."

"Oh."

"They've asked me to replace Hawthorn as the Chief of Police," he beamed into the phone. "And I accepted the position."

"That's magnificent. If anyone deserves it, its you."

"Thanks."

"No I should be thanking you, these boys…they mean a lot to me. I owe you one."

"Anytime buddy," Jack leaned back in his hospital bed trying to release some of the pressure on his side where he was wounded, thankfully not fatally.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, just a little sore, but I've been through this before and I'm sure I'll go through it again. It's no skin off my back," Jack told him.

"Your tougher then I am my friend," Moseby waited for a minute while Jack talked to someone and when he returned they continued their conversation about the island and Edwin's possible prison sentence. "A lifetime isn't long enough for that piece of scum."

"I agree with you Marion. But on that note I have to get going."

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon."

"Sounds like a plan to me," he heard Jack say before hanging up.

Moseby closed his phone and stood there in silence for a minute thanking the lord that Cody was safe and everyone was home where they belonged.

* * *

><p>Zack let a single tear fall down his cheek. All the pain and fear of the last few days washing over him as he held his twin close.<p>

"Zack," Cody pulled back a bit and studied his brother's face.

The anguish he saw in his eyes was heart breaking. All this time he'd been so busy thinking about himself and his situation, he never once took into account what life would be like for Zack if he had been killed.

"I'm so sorry."

"No I am. I should have never left you alone. If I had been there with you or gotten to the van a little sooner none of this would have happened."

"Or you would have been taken too," Cody said. "Then who would have saved us. Zack the only reason I'm sitting here is because you never gave up. You saved my life. I was losing hope but you never did."

"Probably because I wasn't thinking of anything other than getting you home, If you had been killed I don't know what I would have done. Codes…I'm not good with words," Zack turned unsure of how to get his feelings across without sounding to weak. "You're very important to me little bro and I…"

"And you…"

"You're going to make me say it aren't you?" Zack raised an eyebrow as Cody watched him with twinkling eyes.

"Yes I think I deserve to hear it after such a horrible experience," Cody beamed up at him with a mischievous smile that playfully mocked him to reply.

"When you were taken it felt like time stood still and everything around me changed. The light faded and the world grew a little bit darker. I don't know how else to explain it. It's like my life isn't worth living unless I know your around. I felt like I had lost you and had been losing you for awhile."

"I know how you feel," Cody replied. "I never knew how much I missed you until I thought I may never see you again. Zack without you I can't function in this world. You're my rock, my big brother and the only person who knows me better than anyone else, hell better then I know myself. I love you bro."

Zack turned to his twin and their eyes connected in understanding. No matter what challenges life held before them they knew they could overcome anything as long as they were together. Zack placed a brotherly kiss on his twin's forehead and whispered those three little words that bonded them forever.

"Back atcha buddy!"

Cody shook his head and leaned it against his brothers both laughing and forgetting the events of the past week if only for awhile. When their parents walked in a few minutes later Cody sighed in contentment and the four joined their extended family for a quiet dinner on the Sky Deck.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Birthday - ANGIE! You're 24 years young today. I hope you love your story! <strong>


End file.
